


be kind, unwind

by crotchety_old_emu



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Awesome Danneel Harris, F/M, M/M, Slow Build, clueless jensen, lovable douche chad, massage therapist jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 04:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 49,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crotchety_old_emu/pseuds/crotchety_old_emu
Summary: jensen ackles is a project manager at ferrisinc, a pr-company, who'll stop at nothing to be the best. as a result, everything he does is calculated and measured, right up to the time it takes for him to have sex with his ex-girlfriend danneel.in an attempt to make him unwind a little bit, his colleagues convince him to go to a spa and get a few relaxing massages. jensen thinks it's a complete waste of time until he manages to get in with jared padalecki, the most sought-after massage therapist at the spa.when jensen starts wondering why he responds so well to jared, things get complicated. add to that a womanizing colleague without internal filter and a loudmouth artist with the tackiest designs since the early nineties, and jensen's carefully designed life starts falling apart completely.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> written in 2010 for [spn_j2_bigbang](http://spn_j2_bigbang.livejournal.com).  
> beautiful art made by [amie](http://amindaya.livejournal.com) can be found [here](https://amindaya.livejournal.com/2920.html).

**I.**

‘No problem, mister Vaughan. We’ll get that sorted immediately, and we apologize for the mix-up,’ Jensen says with a smirk, even though he is speaking on his headset. He’s pacing his office nervously, gesturing wildly with his right hand, baseball clutched in his left. ‘Tell you what, to show you how much we appreciate your patience, I’ll throw in a second ad, free of charge. Nothing special. Just another version of the first, different colors. Variation sells, right?’

There’s a short rap on the door and Christian Kane walks in, mouth open and question already on his tongue, but Jensen holds up a finger to silence him.

‘Good, I’m glad.’ He breathes deeply. Crisis averted. ‘I apologize again, mister Vaughan. If there’s anything at all we can help you with, don’t hesitate to call. You got my direct line. Okay. Bye.’

‘Trouble?’ Chris asks, his expression somewhere in between amused and surprised, as Jensen sighs heavily and throws his earpiece on his desk, nails still digging into the leather of the baseball.

‘One of the ads for the insurance company-‘

‘Vaughan Insurance?’ Chris interrupts. ‘Can’t believe you roped him in. I heard the old man is ridiculously demanding.’

‘Whoever told you that, they weren’t lying,’ Jensen says, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘I think I just took ten years off my life, working with that guy.’

‘He’s loaded, man,’ Chris tells him with held up hands, as if that’s a good enough reason to put up with anything – and in this business, Jensen guesses it is. ‘And he does like, four or five different campaigns a year. They already love you upstairs - you get him to stay, they’ll be marrying you to their daughters, next thing you know.’

‘If my designers keep fucking up like this, there ain’t a chance in hell that’s gonna happen,’ Jensen snorts. ‘So hold the invitations for a while.’

‘That Murray-kid again?’ Chris winces in sympathy. ‘Remind me why you haven’t kicked him to the curb yet.’

‘Kid’s got skill,’ Jensen says, shrugging. ‘He’s just gotta learn to tone it down a little.’

‘If by “a little” you mean “entirely”.’ Chris says, face carefully blank, even though Jensen can hear the laughter in his words. 'You explain how less is more?'

‘Judging from the picture of him and those half-naked girls on his desktop, he doesn't agree,’ he answers and sits down, immediately taking out a stack of folders from one of the drawers in his desk and sorting through them.

‘Or from the viruses I have to keep pulling off his computer,’ Chris huffs. ‘You think by now the guy would have understood that the attachments will not get him a bigger dick, no matter how often he opens them.’

Jensen rolls his eyes and sighs. ‘Right. Did you drop by for another reason besides laughing at my misery?’

'Did I ever before?' Chris cocks one eyebrow.

Jensen looks up and shrugs, but turns back to his files quickly. 'I live in hope.'

Chris laughs, even though he chooses to ignore Jensen's crack. 'Bunch of us are going out to lunch. I've been sent to rally the troops.'

'Can't, got work to do,' Jensen tells him, almost automatically. He doesn't even take the time to meet Chris's eyes. Not just because what he says is true and he's got another one of Chad's major cock-ups to fix but also because he knows he's not going to like the look on his friend's face.

'Right,' Chris drawls, voice rough and low. His intonation's telling Jensen he was absolutely right. 'And I'll let you work, soon as you come up with a better excuse not to come.'

Jensen fixes him with an annoyed stare and licks his lips before saying, 'I'm serious.'

'You always are,' Chris tells him with a smile, making Jensen wonder how the guy manages to sound friendly and threatening at the same time. He takes a moment - as if waiting to see whether Jensen's going to comment - but continues when he notices that he's not going to get a reply. He sounds much more agitated this time. 'Man, seriously, you can't keep living this life of yours. When do you ever have fun?'

'I have fun.' Jensen frowns, feeling slightly insulted.

'Fun ain't passing out behind the tv, watching re-runs of _the Joy of Painting_ ,' Chris says, arms spread out as if he's challenging Jensen (who is trying really hard to hide that Chris guessed his exact favorite pastime by concentrating on taking apart his pen). He quickly lets them fall loosely to his side, however, and sighs. 'You said it wasn't gonna be like this anymore.'

'What are you, my momma?' Jensen says with his eyebrows raised. 'It won't. As soon as this Vaughan-thing is sorted.'

Chris replies without missing a beat. 'Like with the soup ads. Or the bank-thing.'

'I like to do a good job. I'm not like you slackers,' Jensen jokes, hoping that a bit of humor will divert his friend long enough to let it drop. If not, he knows exactly how this conversation's going to end.

'You just don't like talking to people,' Chris says with a snort. 'Man, I didn't wanna say anything, but you never get out of your office and it's not going down well with the work folk, they're getting restless. Soon, you'll have a rebellion on your hands. So smile and get out there and get your hands dirty.'

'That's a new one, I like it,' Jensen deadpans.

Chris laughs. 'Thanks. Think it'll work someday?'

'Might. Same time next week?' he answers, laughing too.

'Sure thing. Always a pleasure.' Chris gives him a half-smile and makes to leave. He stops before he's out the office, though, hand resting on the doorknob. 'But Jensen, man, I mean it. Take some time off. This life you're living, working all the time. It ain't healthy.'

'Thanks, momma,' Jensen tells him as he's already hunched over the million folders currently on his desk.

**II.**

Jensen is out of his mind with rage by the time he's reviewed the entire Vaughan-file and the five thousand ways Chad Michael Murray almost brutally slaughtered the deal with their client. Not only did he not meet a single of Perry Vaughan's demands, he also made about seven atrocious, cluttered ads _too many_. Which means that Jensen, as the only person to have direct contact with the customer, has a) not a single design to show Vaughan at their meeting tomorrow, b) no choice but to piss off his team and force them to work overtime so they'll at least make their hard deadline next week and c) to find a good explanation for wasting a lot of time and money on _nothing_ when the big boss asks for it, and there isn't one.

He's starting to worry if Murray's extremely latent talent is worth it. This is the third time something similar has happened since he joined Jensen's team. Six months ago.

So it should be no surprise that when Jensen has been standing at Murray's desk for five entire minutes without seeing a trace of the man in question (aside from the version on his desktop, leering at him from amidst a throng of barely legal girls clad in sponge bikinis), Chris's suggestion of curb-kicking is starting to sound mighty fine.

And when he finally does lay eyes on the guy, he's holding a donut and a Styrofoam Starbucks cup in one hand and a cell in the other – on which he's talking very loudly.

'Dude. No. I'm telling you, the man is like a robot,' he says around a mouthful of donut. 'Or a nazi. Like a robot-nazi. There's no talking to the guy. Weatherly tried once and he was like, there was steam coming out of his ears, man. It's like he has three settings: displeased, displeaseder and boiling.'

Jensen listens to this as Murray walks up to his desk and he thinks now would be a good time to interrupt, but he's so angry it's like his teeth have been cemented together and his jaws are locked (and the fact that this seems to prove Murray right only enrages him further).

It doesn't matter, because in any situation, a seething Jensen Ackles is hard to miss and Murray notices him quickly as he nears.

'Exactly! Like a giant robotic nazi-kettle, that's exactly what-' His face falls completely when he spots his boss leaning against his desk. Jensen half expects his eyes to pop out of their sockets and roll to the floor. Instead, Murray clears his throat uncomfortably and says, 'Jay, man, I gotta go. It's tea time.'

If there had been one thing Chad Michael Murray could have said to save his ass, that was not it.

Jensen's first reaction is to take the Styrofoam cup and throw it into the trash. He barely registers how decidedly not empty it is and hears the coffee sloshing in the trash can.

'Dude. What the hell?' Murray blurts, completely taken by surprise.

You got work to do,' Jensen spits, teeth still grinding together. He slams Murray's wannabe-neon-signs down on the desk. 'What the hell possessed you to make these when they're not even in a five mile-radius of what the customer requested?'

'The man is like a million years old! He doesn't know what a good ad is,' Murray argues heatedly. 'This'll attract people's attention.'

'The only people's attention it will attract, Murray, is prostitutes and five-year-old girls that want to become princesses when they grow up,' Jensen growls, letting his voice drop the lowest it's ever been. 'If that's the kind of thing you like, that's fine. But don't bring your personal fantasies into this.'

'Fuck you, man!' Murray yells, outraged. 'You don't know Jack squat about me.'

'I know you'll be looking for a new job if you keep this up,' he replies. He's been biting down so hard - trying to control his anger - that he can feel the joints in his jaw pop.

'You what? You're a fucking douchebag, you know that?' Murray spreads his arms, as if he's daring Jensen to have at him. 'Always up in your office, you don't even look at us twice if you can help it. You think you can tell me how to do my job?'

'Yes. You work for me,' Jensen says and jabs himself in the chest with his index finger. He can just feel the eyes of the entire work floor burning holes through his clothes and skin. 'You can think about me what you like, I don't care. But I do my job the way I'm supposed to – I expect the same from you.'

'You don't do anything else! You're crazy,' Murray shouts back before Jensen's done speaking, not even attempting to keep the volume down. 'Maybe you should go lookin' for a life, man, instead of harassing your designers. Normal people like having one just fine.'

And that, that is the final straw.

'Well then, I hope you'll enjoy yours,' Jensen tells him, voice cracking slightly. 'You're out. Playtime's over.'

If everyone had already been watching them stealthily from behind their computers, then they've given up all pretense now. The floor is creepily quiet: there's not a single paper rustling, no clacking of fingers on keyboards. Only the buzzing of the fluorescent lights and Jensen's heavy breathing can be heard.

'Jensen.' A hand grabs his right arm and pulls him back slightly. He recognizes the voice as Steve's, who is currently trying everything he can to catch his eye. 'Jensen. Hey!'

He finally gives up the glaring contest he's got going with Murray to look at his friend. 'What?'

'Calm down,' Steve says softly. 'Take it easy. This ain't something you want your entire team to hear.'

'Oh yeah?' Jensen snorts, so on edge he's ready to pick a fight with anyone. But then he looks around to the other designers: half of them are staring back with a look of frightened disbelief, the other half are shooting daggers at him. He takes a deep breath, trying to get the adrenaline out of his body. 'Yeah. Okay.'

'Okay,' Steve echoes, still holding his arm firmly, as if Jensen might punch Murray's lights out the moment he stops. 'Take a break. We're having a drink in the bar around the corner. Come with us.'

'No,' Jensen says immediately, shaking his head. 'I gotta-'

'Whatever it is you gotta, it can wait,' Steve interrupts, but he manages to keep his voice soothing and quiet. 'You're not gonna do it well, wound up like this. One drink, half an hour, that's all.'

'No, I-'

'Come.' It's an order – Steve doesn't order anyone around, ever. He's polite and gentle, all _pleases_ and _thank yous_ , all the time (which is why he’s head of HR). And for a second, Jensen doesn't dare refuse him, which is all the time he needs to nod, apparently.

'Alright,' Steve says, finally satisfied, as he lets go.

Jensen's still angry as fuck, ready to snap at any sudden movements almost and it kills him that he knows Steve is right.

'What about me?' Murray calls as they're leaving and it takes all of Jensen's willpower not to turn around and clock him one.

'You're okay. You will clean up your mess and fix what you did wrong. No payment,' Steve says sternly and it's the most authoritative Jensen's ever heard him be. When Murray starts to argue, he repeats, ‘ _No payment_. You messed up. The team's not taking the fall for you on this one. You set this straight, kid. Right, Jensen?'

He refuses to face Murray, but he does take another breath to make sure his voice will come out as collected and steady as Steve's has. 'This is your last chance, Murray. You fuck this up and we're done.'

Jensen throws Steve a quick look, telling him they're leaving, now. His friend nods almost imperceptibly and follows him out without another word.

**III.**

They’re quiet for a while, even after their orders have come, and the atmosphere is tense, awkward. Jensen can’t even care, he’s too angry still, too much adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

And what’s making it even worse is that he’s standing here, completely uselessly, biding his time till he can go back to the office so he can fix this mess and get his shitload of other work done.

But when Chris clears his throat somewhat uncomfortably and all eyes that were previously stubbornly fixed on the floor of the bar (or the ceiling or the window or basically anything but Jensen) are suddenly on his friend. He smiles and says, ‘Shit, Jensen. I’m flattered you all of a sudden started listenin’ to me, but when I told you to get your hands dirty, this wasn’t what I meant.’

He has to think back to the conversation they’d had earlier that morning, but when he does, that appears to be enough to entirely deflate the balloon of anger in his stomach and he starts laughing.

For a moment, everyone but him and Chris glances around nervously, as if they’re afraid Jensen has lost it completely. But Steve catches on quickly and joins them, and just like that, the awkwardness is gone.

Jensen feels like a bit of a douche, though, and promptly orders a new round – his treat.

‘You can’t let him get to you like that, man,’ Chris says, finishing off his beer. ‘Murray’s a jackass, everyone knows that.’

‘He shouldn’t let _anything_ get to him like that,’ Mike chimes in. ‘He was right to wanna fire the guy.’

‘Watch it, Rosenbaum,’ Steve says quickly, pointing a finger at him from over his bottle. ‘We’re not going down that road again.’

‘We’re kind of surprised you lasted as long as you did, actually,’ Tom tells him and suddenly flushes, looking horribly guilty.

Jensen narrows his eyes at him and the other three men, who are all doing their darndest to look innocent. He chuckles. ‘Alright, who won?’

‘Won what?’ Chris asks with a sweet voice that’s not doing anything to hide how much exactly he knows what Jensen’s talking about.

‘The poll you had going on when I would snap.’ He glances around, eyeing his colleagues carefully. ‘Tom, was it you? I promise I won’t be mad if the winner splits the profits.’

Just then, the round of beers Jensen ordered arrives and Steve slumps his shoulders, sighing, and pulls a couple of bills out of his pocket. ‘I guess this one’s on me, then.’

‘Really?’ Jensen asks Chris over the laughter that erupts at the comment. ‘Wasn’t you?’

‘Had you down for next week,’ Chris admits after eyeing him for a few seconds, as if he was deciding if it was safe to tell Jensen. ‘Would rather it hadn’t happened, though.’

‘Well, jerk had it coming, if you ask me,’ Mike interrupts. ‘I put money on three months ago.’

‘That soon? You underestimate my stamina,’ Jensen jokes, but he notices the uncomfortable look the other men share and frowns. He turns to Tom and asks, ‘What about you?’

‘Little under two months,’ he answers quietly. ‘Sorry.’

‘Guy knows he’s uptight,’ Mike says, slinging an arm over Jensen’s shoulders. ‘No need to apologize.’

He shrugs him off, though, and feels his face grow hot. Just like that, the conversation and the amicable atmosphere die down again. ‘Uptight? Is that what you all think?’

‘It is just work, Jensen,’ Tom says carefully, as if any sudden move might make him lash out like a wild cat.

‘Just wo- what?’

‘He has a point, man,’ Chris tries, clumsily shifting his weight from one foot to another. The guy’s his best friend and Jensen knows him inside out. He’s got a heart of gold, but Chris’s temper is the worst he’s ever seen: he gets angry and irrational, lets his feelings guide him all the time. The fact that he’s now making a very conscious effort to stay calm means he’s thought about this for a long time, that he’s talked about it with the other men too. ‘We all wanna do a good job and no one’s blaming you for it, right. But we’re worried. You should lighten up every once in a while.’

Jensen feels his stomach drop, hotness of his cheeks spreading all over, as if he might burst out of his skin. Hoping to find a bit of support with Steve, he turns to look at him, but the man simply states, ‘This is the first time you’ve joined us for just about anything in the past thirty-three weeks.’

He thinks back, trying to find another instance when he’d been out with his friends or when he’d had lunch with them and draws a complete blank.

‘That’s eight months,’ Steve supplies further, as if Jensen hasn’t done the math himself. His tone isn’t accusing or angry, like it’s just an observation he wants Jensen to consider. It’s only then that a switch flips in his mind and sighs. He was made Project Manager eight months before.

‘So?’ he tries half-heartedly, shrugging.

‘Maybe you should get something to do,’ Mike tells him. ‘Get a hobby, let off some steam.’

‘Careful,’ Chris growls, eyes shooting daggers, at the exact time Jensen says, ‘You sound like Murray.’

Mike quickly holds his hands up in surrender. ‘I don’t mean it as an insult. I mean that you should reward yourself for the good work you’ve been doing. What else would you spend the money on, anyway?’

‘I’m saving up,’ he bites out, briefly considering how long it would take him to make it to the door and make a run for it. He came out to relax, to get back to work with a clear mind so he can get his cases finished in time. And because he was forced to, obviously. Doesn't mean he feels like being told how to live by Michael Rosenbaum, of all people.

‘Less saving, more savoring!’

‘Savoring what?’ Jensen spits.

‘The moment!’ Mike says loudly and claps him on the shoulder, completely ignoring the pissed-off look Jensen’s giving him. ‘You can savor anything you want. You got the money, you got the looks-‘

‘Yes, Mike, everything but the actual time.’ He rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his beer. He’s not nearly drunk enough to have this conversation. And what’s worse, he can’t afford to get drunk right now – he can practically hear the Vaughan-case calling.

‘Then make the time,’ Chris says, as if it’s really that simple. ‘Come on, man. If we can do it, you can. Tom’s got a wife and kid to entertain. He’s taking them on a trip next weekend, ain’t that right?’

‘Three-day-holiday at the Hamptons,’ Tom says, careful not to meet Jensen’s eyes. ‘It’s our anniversary.’

‘And Steve and I are still doin’ gigs all over the place,’ he continues. ‘When’s the last time you came to see us play? Used to be you came every chance you had. Brought Danneel with and everything.’

Jensen looks over to Steve, who doesn’t say anything, merely raises his bottle to Chris in agreement. ‘That’s different. You and Steve aren’t Project Managers,’ he says petulantly.

‘And I think none of us want to know what Mike is up to most of his spare time,’ Chris continues like Jensen hasn’t even spoken, ‘but he’s got lots of it, at least.’

‘I’d be offended if you weren’t probably right,’ Mike tells Chris as he’s craning his neck, looking for the waitress to order another round. Jensen can’t believe how proud the guy sounds. ‘It’s true. Do what we all do: delegate. You got the budget and the people. Morgan doesn’t expect you to do everything on your own.’

‘Delegating means looking everything over and correcting mistakes, sending it back and correcting again,’ Jensen argues heatedly. ‘It’s more work that way, for me and my team.’

‘Because you’re the only one who can do it properly, right?’ Steve is looking at him, still speaks with a friendly and light voice, but he recognizes it as fake immediately. 'The only one on your team that knows how to get it done? Christ, Jensen, next thing you know, you’re making the ads yourself too.'

‘When did you start planning this little intervention?’ he asks, glancing around the group once more.

‘Just about the time we did the poll,’ Mike supplies helpfully, handing out the newly arrived bottles of beer. ‘This one’s on me.’

‘Rosenbaum, can it,’ Chris says through gritted teeth, but accepts the beer anyway. Jensen does too, completely abandoning his original plan of not getting wasted. ‘Listen, Jensen, one of your designers just called you a robot. And then you tried to fire him in full view of your team.’

Jensen starts to argue, wants to say how everyone else had told him to get rid of Murray ages ago and that it’s a shitty move they’re holding this against him now. But Tom, rather uncharacteristically, cuts him off.

‘Look, what I think Mike and all of us are trying to say is that it wasn’t wrong of you to want to kick Murray out,’ he says quietly, in the sensible and respectful tone that makes him the good businessman he is. ‘But believe it or not, your designers like having him around. He’s a jerk and a jackass, but he’s the life of the party on an otherwise dull work floor. He’s got stories and rather impressive photographic evidence that they get to hear and see every day. Only time they see you is when you’re complaining about what they did wrong.’

‘What does that mean?’ Jensen asks, wondering if Tom’s just insulted him. It feels like that anyway.

‘You gotta try and see it the way they do,’ Steve says simply. ‘They don’t know you, not as a person. They know you’re the boss, but other than that, they don’t know the next thing about you. Murray basically shares his vitals with them at pretty regular intervals. He’s one of them and if you tear him a new one where everyone can see it, they’re not gonna be too happy with you.’

‘You wouldn’t be either if the tables were turned,’ Chris chimes in. ‘It’s one thing to wanna do a good job, man, but you ain’t happy and neither is your team. This ain’t gonna last, is all we’re saying.’

Jensen nods, feeling defeated, even if he still doesn’t believe they’re right and drains his bottle in the hope it’ll help him relax now his friends have had a chance to speak their mind. He takes a deep breath and, desperately wanting to change the topic, says, ‘So how ‘bout that Spurs-game on Saturday?’

Chris cracks a wide smile and slaps him on the back, cheering. The conversation never once turns back to his situation, but even when he argues the best tactics for his team to win, Jensen can’t stop thinking about what his friends have said.

**IV.**

First thing he does when he gets back from work –after neatly depositing his keys in the art-deco bowl next to the front door- is boot up his home computer. If he puts in another hour or two, he might get most of the work done on that coffee-ad he's got to present in two days. And after that, there might even be time to work on Murray's fuck-ups.

He sighs heavily when he sees the time on the clock (which is angrily flashing 7:33 – he should never have gone and gotten those beers with his friends) and gets the two massive folders from his briefcase. He absently leafs through one of them before deciding that he's definitely gonna need another beer to get through the night.

When he opens the fridge to get one, he notices it's been re-stocked. He glances around the kitchen and sees that the dishes have been done too.

'Huh,' he mutters under his breath. 'Must be Tuesday.'

Which is the days his housekeeper, Marguerite, comes by. Not that Jensen's such a messy person or that his house gets really dirty that he needs one – he's never home long enough to make a mess – but he hired her way back when Danneel and her five million pairs of shoes and her dog were still living with him and he really didn't have the faintest idea how to start organizing all of that and get rid of the hair Icarus seemed dead set on leaving just about everywhere.

After Danneel left, he just didn’t have the heart to fire her and she noticed quickly that her work load was cut in half so she took it upon herself to do the groceries. Jensen can’t imagine life without Marguerite anymore. Last thing he wants when he gets home from work is going back out to the supermarket. So now, he just leaves a fifty on the counter, makes a list of things he needs if he thinks of it – which is not often at all, and at any rate, Marguerite knows better what to get than he does. She gets to keep the change and if he’s lucky, she’ll have made him food that will last him a couple of days. It’s a good arrangement.

He drags himself back to his computer and sighs heavily. It’s not like he actually wants to do this, but if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll never get it done and it’s not like work stops coming at one point. Or like he knows what to do with his time if he doesn’t work. There’s nothing on television worth watching at this time of night that he doesn’t need to have seen the previous episode of. He can’t stay behind the TV without getting antsy about work, anyway. Reading’s out of the question – he can’t even remember the last time he managed to actually finish a book, or thought one was worth finishing. He could go out, but he doesn’t have a clue of where to go to, where the cool joints are these days and he wouldn’t know anyone to go with either.

Nope. Work’s the only option here. And that’s a good thing. He’s not getting paid to half-ass his job.

**V.**

Jensen’s hands are slightly sweaty, even after he’s wiped them on his slacks about a hundred times in the last fifteen minutes. The report he’s been twisting in his hands is damp, even, and he’s mildly panicking over how he’s going to explain that to his boss.

Thank God he stayed up last night to finish it or he’d have had nothing to show Morgan now, as he called their meeting about three days early. He’ll be sure to rub that in Chris’s face when he gets the chance.

Morgan isn’t yet in his office - granted, Jensen is about four minutes early - so he’s got nothing else to do except for pacing the hallway, trying not to show anyone passing that he’s actually nervous.

He isn’t usually, that’s the thing. Jensen can handle stress pretty well. In fact, he’s sure he’s done his best work when the pressure was so high, someone a bit more high strung would’ve collapsed underneath its weight. But this time, he feels as if a lot is riding on his explanation of the Vaughan-file. His outburst a couple of days ago has been the talk of his floor, at least, and he’s hoping to God it hasn’t made the three floors up to the chairmen of the board. He’s got enough problems to explain away with this case, even without trying to justify why he snapped.

‘Jensen,’ a warm voice says from behind him. ‘Morning.’

Jeffrey Dean Morgan is smiling at him as he opens the door to his office and moves aside to let Jensen in first. Jensen is fairly sure that he’s actually a pretty cool guy in real life, and he’s pleasant enough whenever you cross him in the hall, but anyone that’s ever been in a meeting with him knows that Morgan is a real ball buster and one of the biggest hardasses you’ll ever meet.

So he’s at a bit of a loss when Morgan sits down behind his desk, stares at him for a good minute and asks, ‘So, how are you, Jensen?’

He assumes that it’s just a weird choice of words for Morgan, or that maybe he’s even misunderstood and launches into a speech on his revised plan for Vaughan Insurance, but his boss hardly lets him finish one sentence before holding up his hand to silence him.

‘I didn’t ask about the case,’ he says simply.

Jensen is quiet for a moment as he thinks this over, but his brain keeps concluding that his boss can’t actually be asking about his personal life, as there is no precedent in the entire four years he’s worked here, and eventually just tells him, ‘I’ve no idea what you’re asking me, sir.’

‘I’m asking you how you’re doing, son,’ Morgan says, eyebrows raised as if it should have been obvious the first time around. ‘Are you happy? You’ve been working hard, don’t think we haven’t noticed.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Jensen replies, hardly believing what he’s hearing.

Morgan nods and takes a file from his desk, looks through it as if it’s the most intriguing thing he’s ever read. ‘Says here you haven’t had a day off in years. Not since June 2007.’

‘Well, to be honest, that wasn’t really a day off,’ Jensen says defensively. ‘I had to have my appendix taken out.’

‘And you’ve got about a month’s worth of overtime,’ Morgan continues, as if Jensen hasn’t even spoken. ‘Now, you know we can’t pay you for those hours.’

‘No no,’ Jensen says immediately. ‘That’s not – I know that, but the work’s gotta get done.’

‘Right, exactly,’ Morgan agrees, smile lingering on his face. ‘And we want you to know how appreciative we are of that, so we’re gonna give you a few days off, comp time. Take the chance to have some fun, relax a little bit.’

Jensen’s just about to refuse, say that he’s about a month behind on his projects because of Murray’s ridiculous tendency to showcase and that he doesn’t actually have the time to take time _off_ , when it hits him that that is exactly what this is about. He feels the back of his neck grow hot and he’s willing away the sense of dread and nerves that’s hit him tenfold since standing out in the hallway. ‘That’s very kind of you, sir, but that won’t be necessary.’

‘I know it’s not necessary,’ Morgan tells him, leaning back in his chair. ‘Consider it our way of thanking you.’

‘With all due respect, sir,’ Jensen says, gripping the arm rests of the black leather chair tightly, 'I’ll just have twice as much work to do when I come back and I’ll just be adding straight back to my overtime.’

Morgan is quiet for a moment and just looks at Jensen, as if he's trying to mind control him into taking the time off. But when Jensen hasn't actually changed his mind a couple moments later, he just sighs heavily and sits up again. 'Listen, son, let's not pretend that we don't both know what this is about. I'm giving you an easy out, here.'

'Out?' Jensen blurts without thinking. 'But I-'

'An easy way out of this situation,' Morgan corrects himself. 'Your team isn't happy with how things went down, couple days back, and from what I heard, I can't blame 'em.'

'I know that I crossed the line,' Jensen starts to explain, feeling his face flush. 'Murray-'

'Murray is a spoiled rich kid, that much is true,' his boss cuts across him. 'But he's a good designer. His ads are a bit garish at times, but if I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted to hire him. Said that with a bit of steering, he could be one of the best in the company.'

'I've been trying to steer, believe me,' Jensen tells Morgan before he can stop himself. 'He's out of control.'

'Then get him back in it.' When Jensen just gives him a puzzled look, Morgan shakes his head and explains again. 'Listen, Jensen, you do good work and you work hard, none of us are gonna deny that. But you gotta know when to let go, when to take the time off, when to _give_ the time off and when to tell your people they did good. Being a Project Manager is more than managing a project. You gotta manage your people too and you're doing excellent on the first front, but I gotta say, you're making a bit of a mess on the second.'

'How?' he asks, genuinely at a loss for what he did wrong. 'I've been working hard, trying to get my designers to do their best, stretch their abilities-'

'Exactly,' Morgan says and points at him. 'You're stretching them too hard and you're doing the same to yourself. And that's gonna go well for a while, but at some point, someone –either you or one of your workers- is going to stop stretching and start tearing and from what I heard, that don't seem like it's far off.'

His boss pauses here, like he's giving Jensen a moment to process all he's said. When Morgan's still looking at him after he's long catalogued everything, however, Jensen gets uncomfortable and gives him a faint nod. And it seems that was what Morgan was waiting for, because he gives him a tiny smile and leans over to him, arms on his desk, as if he's about to share a secret. 'So here's what we're going to do: you are taking two days off because you're overworked, you're gonna have a gay old time back at your place or wherever and you're gonna come back on Monday, relaxed and slightly less demanding and then all problems are cleared, you get that?'

'I- I can't,' Jensen stutters and he's pretty sure he's never been so intimidated by anyone, not even when he first met Chris at college and the man had –extremely drunkenly- threatened to wipe the floor with his face.

Morgan sighs again, appears to be gearing up for another round of arguments, when Jensen finally manages to string together a decent sentence. 'No, I mean, I would do this, but I've got a meeting with Vaughan Insurance tomorrow to set things straight, meeting with Vaughan himself the day after that. There's no way I can get any of the other Project Managers clued in on time and even then there's still the issue that Vaughan probably won't want to deal with a new rep.'

He gets another hard stare from Morgan, as if he's working out if Jensen's actually telling the truth. Eventually, the man sighs and nods. 'Shit. Old Vaughan wasn't easy to get a hold of. Fine. Can you handle these meetings and your other projects and your designers without taking it down the same road you did this week?'

'Definitely,' Jensen says eagerly, making a mental note to thank the Lord on his knees he actually managed to think of that excuse when he did. 'It won't happen again.'

'It better won't,' Morgan says and waves his hand dismissively, signaling to Jensen that the conversation is over. 'Next time I hear you nearly clock one of your employers, you're getting more than a couple days off, and that won't be coming out of your overtime.'

'Yes, sir,' he agrees quickly, already getting up to get the hell out of that office. Just before he's out the door, though, he hears his boss call for him again, so he turns and asks, 'Sir?'

'You're a good kid,' Morgan tells him and Jensen can't actually make out if he's completely serious or just saying it to boost Jensen's ego. 'You could have a good life. It don't always have to be about work. You might wanna try doing that sometime.'

He nods and makes a hasty retreat. He's almost back in his own office when he freezes and realizes that Jeffrey Dean Morgan basically told him the exact same thing Murray did. His face gets hot again and he thinks that if he keeps getting this angry, he might just punch a hole through one of his walls sometime soon.

But then he deflates a little and thinks that if the entire world is yelling this at him – well. They might not be right, but they won't stop bugging him unless he gives in, either. So he might as well give them the impression he's caving. Which is why he whips out his phone and starts texting Danneel.

> _Going down to the bar round the corner from work later. Think you can make it? J._

It's been a while since he's seen her, a couple weeks probably, but there's nothing that takes the edge off like being around Danneel. So when the positive reply comes a good ten minutes later, he's actually looking forward, for the first time in long, to getting off work. Or maybe just to getting off.

**VI.**

Jensen knows the exact moment Danneel walks in, because it’s the moment when all the men in the bar take just a second too long to answer, miss their mouths by just a fraction and spill beer all over their ties. It’s exactly one moment before all the people they’re talking to turn their heads toward the door.

He follows their example and, sure enough, Danneel Harris has just walked in, looking breathtaking as ever in an old t-shirt, denim mini-skirt and worn-down Converse that Jensen knows for a fact she’s had for ages. Her sunglasses are up in her hair, making it look messier than it actually is and she’s not even wearing make-up, as if he’s just pulled her away from doing laundry.

It still makes him half an inch taller, knowing that he’s the one she’s gonna walk up to, that he’s the reason she’s here at all. Sometimes he wonders why it didn’t work out between the two of them; he wonders if he should’ve given it more time or if he should’ve given her more and taken less. He thinks that, if circumstances had been different, they could’ve had a pretty great life together.

‘Hey,’ she says when she reaches him. She has a smile on her face, as if she’s genuinely happy to see him, but her hands don’t leave her back pockets. ‘You ready?’

Circumstances aren’t different, he reminds himself, and that means it’ll only work if they change, if they both change. And that’s something neither of them was willing to do, he guesses. Sometimes, love just isn’t enough, or there just isn’t enough love. So he’ll just have to settle for what they do still have, which is really great sex.

He follows her out, mirroring her smile, and if it bothers her that his hand snakes just a bit back and south even before they’re out the door, she doesn’t let it show.

**VII.**

Their fingers are intertwined by the time they’re in the parking lot and she leads him straight to his car, just the way she always does. (She has a thing for his dark blue Range Rover, he knows.) But there’s a spring in her step and she’s tugging just a bit harder than usual.

‘Hold up,’ Jensen says, still wearing that smile, as he’s trying to slow her down. ‘Where’s the fire?’

‘My apartment, if we don’t hurry up,’ she answers and she’s already fished the keys out of his pocket and is opening the door, her other hand pulling the shades out of her hair. ‘My laundry’s finished in fifteen minutes and if I don’t get the shirts out immediately, I’m never gonna get the rumples out. You’re lucky I came.’

‘Not yet, you didn’t.’ He has to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing as he follows her in, his hands working on loosening his tie and the buttons of his shirt. He knows this girl so well, knows everything about her, and that’s exactly why he likes being with her so much.

Because it’s always great with Danneel: always certain, quick and organized. No surprises. Like a dance they know all the steps to, an act they choreographed themselves. There’s no mess, no fuss, no puzzling and no searching, because they’re already clear on what the other likes.

Jensen knows exactly what buttons to push to give her what she needs; knows that if he kisses her on the soft skin where her jaw and earlobe meet, it drives her crazy, that a hand to the insides of her knees and elbows does much more for her than cupping her breasts. Knows that under no circumstances should he ever touch her belly, because it’s the only place she’s really ticklish and she’ll be in fits of laughter for minutes on end and the moment will be ruined.

And she knows how sensitive the soles of his feet and the sides of his ribcage are. Knows that he likes her on top, setting the pace, and that if she wants to finish him off in fifteen seconds flat, all she has to do is put her lips to his Adam’s apple and hum.

So that’s how they do it – it’s a sure and steady cadence, perfected after years of training.

Car and elbow. Lobejaw and ribcage. Top to bottom. In and out.

Adam’s apple. Belly.

Twelve minutes and forty-three seconds.

(Danneel’s shirts remain unrumpled.)


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written in 2010 for [spn_j2_bigbang](http://spn_j2_bigbang.livejournal.com).  
> beautiful art made by [amie](http://amindaya.livejournal.com) can be found [here](https://amindaya.livejournal.com/2920.html).

**VIII.**

'Jensen, we're going,' Chris says, slightly breathless, as if he's been running. When Jensen makes no move to leave, he taps the doorpost impatiently a couple of times. 'Come on.'

'Yeah, yeah, I'll be right out,' he answers without looking up from the file he's been reviewing for the past hour. 'Just gotta finish this, you go ahead. I'll meet you there.'

'Right,' Chris drawls, not moving an inch. 'You said you were gonna come, man. I want none of this.'

'I _am_ coming,' Jensen says emphatically, rolling his eyes, even if Chris can't see his face. 'Just this-'

'No,' Chris cuts him off and moves into the office, drops himself into one of the armchairs across from Jensen. 'I ain't leavin' till you are.'

'Fine,' Jensen barks. Chris can wait, no problem, as long as he gets his work done.

But then his friend starts fidgeting, sighing every ten seconds or so, gaping at his watch and sighing again. And he starts jiggling his legs, as if he's nervous, starts clicking his tongue.

Jensen drops his pen and glares at him, a look that Chris easily returns.

'Listen, you know I'm not gonna let you get any work done, so you might as well give up before I start singing Britney Spears,' he says in the end. 'I'm gonna win anyway.'

Jensen stares at him a little while longer, almost willing Chris to give in. But then he realizes that he might be stubborn, he's still got nothing on Chris. So he sighs heavily and closes the folder. 'Fine, you win.'

Chris smirks at him and waits until Jensen's by his side before he actually turns to leave the office. Jensen bumps his shoulder into his as they walk out the door. 'Britney Spears? Seriously?'

'You'd be surprised,' Chris says, he doesn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. ' _Toxic_ is really catchy.'

Jensen smiles and when Chris starts singing ( _With the taste of your lips I'm on a ride_ ) and doing a couple of dancy moves wholly unfit for a thirty-five year old man, he laughs out loud and is secretly really happy everyone else has already left.

*

The time passes quickly when they’re having a couple of beers and listening to Mike’s sexcapades while trying not to cringe and Jensen finds he’s actually having fun, laughing with the other guys and being in on the jokes for once. But then he makes the mistake of looking at the clock and his brain is flashing bright red warning signs that say he’ll never make his deadline if he keeps slacking off like this. 

‘Oh no,’ Steve says immediately, as he probably sees the sheer panic on Jensen’s face. ‘No, Jensen. What happens at the office stays at the office. That’s exactly why we’re here, man. Shake off the tension after a hard day's work.’

‘But the day isn’t anywhere near over,' Jensen blurts without thought.

‘Jensen,’ Tom says quietly as he steals a glance at his watch. ‘It’s six thirty.’

‘Exactly,’ Mike says. ‘Which means Jen here has got about five more hours of work ahead of him.’

When Jensen doesn’t deny this, the smiles on their faces all fade.

‘Really?’ Chris asks, wincing. 'Every day?'

‘Jesus,’ Tom says, as Mike claps a hand down on Jensen’s shoulder in sympathy. ‘No wonder you’re tense.’

He’s just about to argue when he feels Mike knead the muscles in his back and cocks an eyebrow.

‘You feeling me up here, Mike?’ he asks instead. ‘Because that’s doing nothing to help me relax.’

‘No, I was just feeling how tense you are,’ he answers as if groping each other is something they do every day. ‘Seriously, man, your shoulders don’t feel anything like human flesh. Maybe you are a robot.’

‘Rosenbaum,’ Chris grinds out, looking just about ready to wipe the floor with his face.

‘No, it’s true,’ Jensen admits after a moment.

‘You’re not a robot.’ Chris says heatedly.

‘What?’ Jensen asks, confused. ‘Of course, I’m not a robot. It’s true that my shoulders are rock hard. Danneel used to say it all the time, gave me massages to loosen up, but they’d never help for long. Occupational hazard, I suppose. That’s what you get for being in front of a computer all day.’

‘What about Danneel?’ Chris asks suddenly.

‘What about her?’

‘Can’t she help you out? Take you out?’ Chris clarifies. ‘You know. Help you relax?’

When Steve notices that Mike’s about to jump into the conversation, he throws him a warning look and says, ‘By going to dinner and a movie.’

But it doesn’t stop the guy from adding enthusiastically, ‘Or getting another _massage_.’

‘Man, can we just this once have a conversation without the double entendres?’ Jensen tells him, raising his eyebrows. ‘No. Danneel and I, we aren’t like that. We’re just friends.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Chris mutters under his breath.

‘What?’ Jensen asks. ‘We are. We met just yesterday.’

‘And you’re still bursting at the seams,’ Mike continues, unperturbed. ‘Whatever it is you guys are doing, you’re not doing it right.’

Jensen’s about to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, when Tom interrupts him. ‘So why don’t you get your massages some other place?’

He stares at Tom for a while, before finally asking, ‘You mean, like –‘ He doesn’t even want to finish his sentence, just makes a lewd gesture with his hands and frowns. ‘Never thought you were the type.’

Tom laughs, but shakes his head. ‘No, you dirtbag. I mean, an actual massage. Go to a spa.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s fun!’ Mike yells, as if Jensen’s retarded. Which, at this point, he feels he might be, because he thinks that no one is making even a lick of sense.

‘No, that’s a good idea,’ Steve chimes in. ‘Doesn’t take long, an hour at most. I bet your neck could use it.’

‘You’re actually serious about this?’ Jensen asks.

‘Sure. Tom, Steve and I go every week,’ Mike says happily.

Jensen turns to Chris. ‘Not you?’

‘Nah,’ he replies and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, as if he’s shy. He gestures weakly with his hand, sloshing the beer around in his bottle, and finishes lamely, ‘Ticklish.’

‘Here.’ Tom nudges him with a business card. ‘It’s where we go.’

He turns the card over in his hand and looks at it. It’s completely perfect according to business card laws: it’s simple, abstract, just says _Sandover Spa_ in black lettering on a cream background with only three small golden dots in between the name and the address.

‘They get guys like us all the time,’ Steve says calmly. ‘They’re discreet, relaxed and perfectly coordinated. You’ll never have to wait a single minute.’

‘It’s worth your time, trust me,’ Mike adds. ‘There’s this one guy and he works wonders. I’m pretty sure he got sent down straight from heaven.’

‘We're talking about actual massages, though, right?’ Jensen says as he shoves the card into one of his pockets, with no intention of ever using it. 'Because that's not what you're making this sound like.'

‘No, they're actual massages. No happy endings or whatever. And you know I normally agree with you,’ Tom says hesitantly. ‘But for once, Mike’s not joking. This guy really is obscenely talented.’

Almost without thinking, he turns to Steve. If there’s one person who’s always realistic, it’s him.

‘Don’t look at me,’ he says, holding up his hands. ‘I’m just as curious as you are. I never managed to get in on the guy’s schedule. I’ve got one of the other masseuses. Pretty little Mexican-looking thing.’

‘Ah, Genevieve.’ Mike says the name as if it’s a prayer and then sighs heavily. ‘If only she had Jared’s big hands, I’d be all over her.’

Jensen turns to Tom, eyes wide. ‘Still not joking?’

‘Afraid not,’ Tom tells him again. ‘He really is that good. I had to bribe two people to get in. Cost me a shitload of money, but I haven’t regretted it for a second.’

‘You’re crazy, the both of you,’ Jensen says, laughing. ‘It’s only a massage. How good can it possibly be?’

‘Oh, ye of little faith.’ Mike smiles. ‘Put in a call. We’ll talk again after that.’

**IX.**

'Hello?'

'Am I uptight?' Jensen asks immediately. He's not even in the door of his home, still fumbling with his briefcase and keys, but he'd been holding back the urge to dial ever since they'd left the bar.

'You're home early. And good evening to you too,' is the reply he gets. He hears the hood in the kitchen buzzing, hears the clicking of cutlery and pots and pans. 'It's so sweet of you to call, everything is fine here.'

'Yes, yes, good evening, momma,' he says impatiently, draping his things over the kitchen counter and making a beeline for the beer in his fridge. 'The guys at work think I'm uptight.'

His mother is quiet for a moment, then he hears her voice again, 'Alan, you keep an eye on dinner? I can't hear a word the boy is saying.'

And then, all of the background noises disappear and Jensen can just picture his mother walking into the study and settling down on the big couch they have in there, just as she always does when she's on the phone.

'Well, darling,' she tells him hesitantly, 'you're not exactly doing much to prove them wrong.'

'So you're saying they're right?' he barks. 'You think I need to get a life too?'

'Now, I didn't say that,' she argues, her intonation going up, and Jensen can tell she's feeling uncomfortable and cornered. 'I wasn't there. I don't know why they'd be saying this all of a sudden. Maybe if you told me what brought this on, I could-'

'I nearly fired one of my artists, couple days ago,' he says, cutting her off. He's clutching the phone between his ear and shoulder, so he has both hands to play with the label on his bottle.

'I'm sure you had your reasons.'

'Of course, I did,' he says heatedly. 'The guy fucked up.'

'Language, Jensen,' his mother tuts. 'I don't see the problem. I'm sure they've fired people before too?'

'Usually not when everyone could hear them,' he says as he takes a swig from his beer. 'And usually not by insulting the guy's, well, sexual preferences.'

'Jensen Ross Ackles, you did not,' Donna says angrily.

When Jensen doesn't contradict her, as she's clearly expecting, she sighs heavily and lets the silence drag on for a while.

'Look, darling,' his mother says eventually and she's got that note of pity in her voice that makes Jensen's blood boil every single time. 'All I can say is that you've always been like this. You were always working hard, trying to be first and best and you never stopped till you succeeded. Remember that time, with your cousin Julia, when we went to see her play the piano in that music-contest and she won?'

'No,' Jensen says honestly. He didn't even remember he had a cousin Julia, let alone that he ever watched her in a music-contest.

'Sure you do,' his mother says cheerfully, as if her saying that is suddenly gonna make it all come back to him. 'She used to be this tiny thing, so skinny you could almost look right through her. Bright red curls. You used to say she looked like her head was on fire. Come to think of it, I think Josh did set fire to her hair once. Singed off her eyebrows. Your aunt Mary said it took three years for them to grow back.'

'Momma, is there a reason you're telling me this?' he asks, annoyed.

'Well, anyway, we went to see her play the piano and she won,' Donna continues as if Jensen hadn't even spoken. 'And this was right around the time you'd started playing the guitar and you were convinced you could do better than her. You wanted them to redo the contest with you. Took three adults and an insane amount of coke floats to calm you down and even then you wouldn't shut up about it. All night long, you kept inching towards one of the guitars the musicians had brought.'

Jensen feels his face heat up, he knows that it's been a good twenty-five years since it happened and he can't even remember a second of that night, but it still sounds embarrassing as hell for everyone involved.

'In the end, the people holding the contest just let you play for a minute and told you that if they'd known you were that good, they definitely would've let you win and that shut you up immediately,' she finishes.

He's quiet for a moment, thinking the story over and wincing at the trouble he gave his parents. 'That really happen?'

'Honest to God, darling,' she tells him. 'You always were kind of intense and you still are, I guess. We always figured that it was alright as long as you didn't take it too far – didn't hurt anyone or didn't turn into a bully. And you didn't, look at how far you've gotten. I'm sure that you're the best darn Project Manager they've ever had, aside from you yelling some very bad things at that one guy. You really should apologize for that, Jensen.'

'No.' He sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face, scrubbing hard. He hears his mother click her tongue and winces again after he realizes how that sounded. 'No, momma, what I mean is I'm not the best they've ever had.'

'Oh,' is all she says. Jensen can't tell if she sounds disappointed or relieved.

'Yep. Got called into the big boss's office yesterday. Said that my job was about managing people too and that I'm kind of failing spectacularly at it.'

'I bet he didn't say it like that,' his mom says, and he knows she's trying to cheer him up, but it only makes him angry.

'No,' he bites out. 'He threatened to fire me if I pull another stunt like that. But I don't have time to indulge my designers, momma. I got about four projects running and one of them is the biggest and most demanding client we've ever had. This guy won't settle for less than perfect, so I can't afford to fuck this up.'

'Jensen,' she snaps and he has to try real hard to not yell at her for not having a problem with the shitload amount of work he's got to do, or the fact that his boss would kick him out on his ass, but that she can't handle a bit of swearing. She doesn't say anything for a moment, as if she senses how he's trying to hold back and eventually says, in a small voice, 'he sounds a bit like you, that client.'

He's about to protest, argue that he's not – not in any single way – like old man Vaughan, but Donna continues to talk. 'And Jensen, I get what you're saying, but without your designers, you've got no perfect to offer the man. Now I know you're a hard worker, but not everyone is cut out to be like that. You know that, you've got people skills too, Jen. I know that. I've seen you charm your way in and out of things without anyone actually realizing that you did it. Why aren't you using that?'

He sighs again and closes his eyes. 'I don't know, momma. I don't ever feel I got the time to do it.'

'Nonsense,' she tuts. 'You don't got the time to get to know the people who work for you, you make the time. I'm sure they'll appreciate it. What does Christian say about all this?'

'Pretty much the same as you,' Jensen admits, draining his beer bottle and shoving it across his kitchen workface so it ends up near the sink with a clatter.

'I knew that boy was gonna use that brain of his eventually,' Donna says under her breath. She never really warmed to Chris. She doesn't speak for another moment and then asks, carefully, 'Jensen. Are you happy?'

'What does that even mean?' he asks in return and rolls his eyes at how maudlin that sounds. 'I thought I was until everyone kept telling me I wasn't.'

'Well, maybe that's something you should think about, darling,' she says. Her last words are drowned out by a loud clang and next thing he knows, he hears his mother shout. 'Alan? Alan! Oh, dear lord. Listen, Jensen, I'm gonna have to let you go. Your father burned his fingers on the frying pan again. The day that man learns how to cook, I'm going to buy him that Cadillac he's been moaning about for years.'

'Sure, momma,' he says and he realizes he's smiling, which kind of takes him by surprise. 'You go take care of dad. And dinner.'

‘I had better,' she says. 'I swear, this place would fall apart without me. Now you know it, don't be a stranger. Doesn't take that much effort to pick up a phone.'

'I know, momma. I'll call you back soon,' he says and hangs up. He stays at the kitchen counter for a while, mulling everything over.

It's only when he gets up again to go shower and wash this whole thing off, after deciding it's his fucking life and he can do whatever the hell he pleases, that he puts his hands in his pockets and his fingers get caught on a small piece of paper.

He pulls it out, curiously and stares at it for a minute. It's the card for the spa Mike, Steve and Tom were raving about. He runs a hand over his mouth and chin, scratching idly at the stubble there and shakes his head.

'Fuck it,' he says angrily and grabs his phone to make an appointment.

**X.**

Jensen feels completely ridiculous as he's sitting in the waiting room, once again wiping his sweaty hands on his slacks. (He's pretty sure that ever since he's been attempting to relax, he's been getting more and more stressed.)

'No waiting,' he mutters under his breath. 'Right.'

He's been sitting here for ten minutes now and has seen about four people – that came in after him -move into the "relax rooms" as the plaques on the doors tell him. Those are ten minutes he could've spent working on his projects, making sure Murray doesn't fuck up again.

'Mister Ackles?' a girl says as she walks into the waiting room area. She's wearing a seemingly couture version of hospital scrubs, actually laced with gold at the seams. She's tiny, with dark hair and dark eyes and the ecru and gold of her uniform compliments her olive skin beautifully. (Jensen doesn't even know why he noticed this.) She motions for him to follow her and he thinks he can hear a slight lisp when she continues with a tiny smile on her lips. 'I'm Genevieve Cortese, I'll be your masseuse today. Sorry you had to wait a while; we had to get your file in order before we could start. But that's all done now, so next time you can practically walk right into relax room 4, which is mine, usually. There's a spreadsheet up on the board, there, that you can check.'

'Thanks,' he murmurs as they get in. It's a nice room, quite spacious, all decorated in the same colors of soft gold and cream and ecru, just like her uniform and the business card. All furniture is in English cottage style, except for the massage chair in the middle of the room. It smells vaguely of lavender and there's lounge music floating quietly in the air.

'Okay, I'm just gonna pop outside for a minute so you can get comfortable,' she says in a warm and cheerful voice that only makes Jensen half wonder if she's sincere or not. The lisp is definitely real, though. 'If you want to take your boxers off, that's fine by me. If you don't, that's fine too. Towels to cover yourself are right there by the table and if you've got any other questions, just ask me when I come back in. I'll just go and get my hands warmed up by grabbing a cup of coffee. Can I get you anything?'

Jensen's head is reeling from all the information she's spouting at him, all of a sudden, and honestly, she did kind of lose him the moment he heard "boxers" and "off" in the same sentence. He hadn't given it any thought, hadn't even realized there were options and there really are too many variables he needs to know about before he can even begin to decide on that.

(What do other men do? Is there a different protocol for when you're with a masseuse or with a masseur? Will people think he's a prude if he keeps them on, or will they say he's a perv if he doesn't? Do his boxers even need to come off for this massage? And if so, what the hell kind of massage did he sign up for?)

Genevieve's still staring at him, waiting for an answer to a question Jensen's long forgotten and from the smile she's flashing him, Jensen can tell she knows exactly what's been going through his mind.

'First time, right?' She laughs and even though she's not mocking him, it's not helping Jensen feel any less self-conscious.

'That obvious?' Jensen tries and winces at how shaky his voice sounds. He has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He's done presentations for full auditoriums, reeled in some of the toughest and most important clients his company has on file, but a massage with a teeny tiny girl gets him worked up.

'Not really, but after five years in this place, you pick up on the signs pretty easily,' she says, clearly amused. She looks him over again, as if she's sizing him up. 'Tell you what, I'll give you a hint. It's "I'll keep 'em on" and "water, thanks".'

'Are those the standard answers?' Jensen asks, narrowing his eyes slightly, but offers her a smile in return anyway.

'It's what most first-timers go with, yeah,' she says with a nod as she makes to leave. Right before she's out the door, however, she stops and adds, 'But if you want to be more adventurous, I sure won't stop you.'

He can't help but snicker as he begins to undress. He knows he should be even more unnerved his masseuse may possibly have just hit on him, and in a way he is. But another part of his brain tells him this might not even be so bad. Genevieve appears to be alright: easy-going, friendly, even if she is direct. That's good. Last thing Jensen would have wanted was an hour of uncomfortable silence as he's laying half-naked on a table, completely at the mercy of someone else.

A few moments later, when Jensen's undressed and he's just finished folding up his clothes, there's a short rap on the door. 'Okay if I come in now, mister Ackles?'

'Er, right. Yeah, come on in,' Jensen says, towel in hand and wearing nothing more than his boxers.

Genevieve's eyes pass over him, lingering on his light grey underwear and she gives him an appreciative smile as she puts down his glass of water. 'Great,' she says and Jensen really hopes she's saying it about the situation in general and not his body, because that would make his discomfort come back with a vengeance, which is about the exact opposite of what he came for. 'There's your water. Let's get started. If you'll just get up on the table, on your stomach. Head on this side.'

He nods and maneuvers himself around as she waits by the table, holding one of the cream towels at the ready to cover him.

'One thing that hasn't been mentioned before: do you want a full body or are there any body parts in particular that you wanted me to pay some attention to?'

Jensen chokes on a cough, props himself up on his elbows and cranes his neck to get a look at Genevieve's face. She looks like she's biting on the inside corners of her mouth to keep form laughing, but it does nothing to stop Jensen's awkward feeling from skyrocketing into the danger zone.

'Relax, I'm only half-kidding,' she tells him, pushing his shoulders down gently to get him to lie back down. Jensen has to stop himself from asking which half. 'God, you're nervous.'

'It'll pass,' he says, trying to sound more confident than he actually feels and failing miserably. 'First time and everything.'

'Good thing it's my job to help you unwind, then.' Genevieve rubs her hands quickly –to warm them, Jensen assumes- and squirts some kind of lotion on them that makes the entire room smell more strongly of lavender. 'Which is why you might wanna tell me what exactly you wanted. Katie apparently forgot to ask when you made the appointment.'

'Okay,' Jensen drawls. What the hell is he supposed to say? He's never done this before. 'What're my options?'

'Any body part that's uncovered or full body,' Genevieve answers monotonously, as if she's quoting from a manual. She continues rubbing her hands together. 'Full body costs extra, obviously.'

Jensen thinks about it, weighing his choices and thinking back if he's ever heard Mike or Tom mention a similar conundrum, but he comes up at a loss.

'You're gonna have to come up with something quickly, before I've used up all the lotion on myself,' Genevieve says, amused.

In the end, Jensen decides he doesn't wanna spend a small fortune on something he doesn't even know he'll like and motions vaguely towards his back. 'If you could do my shoulders?' he says. 'I sit behind a computer all day and I get really tense.'

'Absolutely.' She smiles, tongue between her teeth.

When her hands come down on his skin, they're warm and soft, but he still gets goose bumps. She starts rubbing his skin gently, spreading the lotion over his shoulder blades and neck and eases into a kneading motion close to his spine. It's not bad at all –better than when Danneel used to do it- and Jensen closes his eyes, listening to the lounge music humming in the background.

'Boy, you are tense,' she says suddenly and Jensen is slightly startled. 'How many hours a day are you behind a computer?'

He thinks about telling her the truth for a moment (about fourteen), but quickly decides he's been scrutinized enough for that. So he says, 'Too many.'

'Where do you work?' Genevieve asks, voice low and soft, as if she's picked up on how skittish he still is and doesn't want to scare him.

'Ferris Inc, PR company couple blocks-' Jensen grunts when she pushes her thumbs down hard on a spot he didn't even know was sore and keeps rubbing it in a circular motion. 'Couple blocks down. A few of my colleagues are regulars here. They advised me to come.'

'Who're they? Maybe I know 'em.'

'Steve Carlson,' he says. 'Michael Rosenbaum and Tom Welling. They're with another masseur, I think.'

She barks out a laugh. 'Thank God Mike is. First time he was in here was with me. Took off all his clothes, refused a towel, but all he came in for was a facial.'

Jensen blows an involuntary raspberry when he can't decide whether to laugh or be mortified. 'That sounds like him.'

'I've never seen this Tom. But Steve is nice though,' she tells him, moving on to his neck, pushing softly at the nubs on the bottom of his skull.

'Yeah,' Jensen agrees, because there's nothing else he can say to that, and they fall silent.

He closes his eyes again and tries to go back to just enjoying the feeling of his muscles being kneaded until they're relaxed, the soft tones of the lounge music, but it's too late. All kinds of things are running through his head now, things he should've asked Steve before coming like, is he supposed to talk to her? And if so, what is he supposed to say? Are there subjects you're supposed to avoid? Like, is it okay to talk about your or your masseuse's personal life? Or is it supposed to be strictly business?

This silence is everything but comfortable, Jensen decides. It's hanging in the air, waiting to be broken and he hasn't the slightest what to do. He could sell milk to a cow and he can read people like they're books, no problem, but he's always been awful at small talk.

He sneaks a look at Genevieve – she seems busy, unaware of Jensen's predicament as she uses a bit more lotion and warms it up with her hands. She doesn't look like she's expecting Jensen to speak, so why does it _feel_ like she is?

Just like that, the moment is ruined and Jensen can't get back to the almost-relaxed state he was in before. His neck does feel better when the hour is finally over and he gets back up to get dressed, so he guesses this wasn't a total loss. But he's everything but unwound, even as Genevieve shakes his hand and happily announces, 'See you next time, mister Ackles!'

Jensen hadn't even thought about it, that there'd be a next time and feels himself tense up even further at the idea of spending another hour in pregnant silence while this woman basically feels him up.

_It'll be different with a man_ , he thinks absently as he puts on his tie. Easier to talk to, not weird when there's silence. Maybe he should go and ask about that Jared-kid they've been raving about.

Couldn't hurt, right?

**XI.**

‘I was told to ask for Jared?’ Jensen tells the girl, eyebrows raised.

‘Sorry. Jared is all booked up at the moment,’ she replies monotonously, as if she’s answered that same question a million times before. She doesn’t even look up from the magazine she’s reading and just keeps chewing obnoxiously on a big purple chewing gum that’s already started to color her lips an unsettling shade of violet. ‘He’s very hot, right now. We do have another couple of great masseurs ready for you. I recommend Genevieve Cortese, she’s one of our best.’

‘I’ve already been with Genevieve,’ he says gruffly. Wondering why he's even trying. He’d known this was a waste of time the moment he agreed to this and he's not particularly keen on spending more time awkwardly lying on a table. He could’ve finished up that travel agency-project twice in the time he’s been here. ‘What does it take for me to be put on Jared’s schedule?’

‘Time?’ she says with a snort, as she turns a page. Jensen thinks he can actually _hear_ her eyes roll. When she notices he isn’t leaving, she sighs and adds, ‘I could put you in the first open slot?’

‘Sure,’ he says immediately, almost happy he got a response out of her. ‘When’s that?’

‘Next March,’ the girl tells him without even looking in the diary.

‘March?’ Jensen barks and pulls a face. ‘It’s the sixth of May.’

‘Exactly,’ she says as she finally looks up. She’s got big blue eyes that have too much mascara slapped on and lips that have turned equally blue. The smile she’s got on her face is almost evil, like she’s truly enjoying rejecting people. ‘Jared has a lot of regulars. You could always hope for someone to cancel, but I have to warn you, his massages are all the rage. People would rather die than cancel their appointment.’

Jensen takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face in frustration. ‘On the off-chance that someone would drop dead in the next ten months, would I be able to get their spot?’

‘Absolutely,’ she says as she gives him a grin that bares all her teeth (which are also blue, Jensen notices). She leans over backwards and gets a second diary from somewhere below her desk. ‘I’ll put you on the list.’

‘List?’

‘Yup.’

‘There’s a waiting list,’ Jensen says. He shouldn’t even be surprised. ‘And how many people are before me?’

‘Eight,’ the girl answers cheerfully, holding out a pink pencil with bright pink feathers on top as if she’s ready to write. ‘Should I put you down?’

For a moment, he wishes someone put her down, but he takes a deep breath and licks his lips to keep his calm, before speaking again, ‘I need nine people to kick the bucket before I get to see Jared?’ Forget it.’

Not even if this man’s hands are made out of pure gold and taste like beer, would he be worth the trouble, Jensen decides. He weakly slaps a hand down on the desk, as if to demonstrate the conversation is over and makes to walk out of the spa – he has work to do, after all.

But when the girl calls out for him –still chewing as she speaks, what the hell?- he stops dead. ‘Will you still be seeing Genevieve next week?’

‘Why, is there a list for that too?’ he bites out without turning around properly, he’s just craning his neck to get a view of her. She doesn’t even reply to his question, but keeps staring at him with big blue eyes and smacking blue lips, so he adds, ‘Whatever. Yes.’

Jensen turns away quickly, determined to get the hell out of there as fast as he can. But not even if he’d been running, would he have missed the sharp pop of the secretary’s purple bubblegum. He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. He’s definitely going to regret this.

**XII.**

‘So, did Jared work the kinks out of your pretty little neck yesterday?’ Mike asks, when his shiny head floats through Jensen's slightly-ajar-door.

Jensen looks up briefly from the screen, letting his fingers get a moment’s rest on the keyboard, before he continues typing. ‘Didn’t even get to see the guy. I got the Genevieve-chick.’

‘Yeah. I was told there’s a waiting list,’ Mike answers as he steps into the room completely and closes the door behind him. He walks over to the armchairs opposite Jensen’s desk and drops himself unceremoniously in one, stretches out like he’s ten miles long and starts tending to a hangnail. ‘Took me a while to get in too, but it’s worth your trouble. If worse comes to worst, I might even let you go to one of my appointments. Although, Genevieve’s not that bad either. A bit gentle, maybe. Gentler on the eyes.’

‘Appointments? Plural?’ And it says a lot about how much stress this whole thing has given him, that Jensen completely bypasses the lewd remark, even ignores Mike’s waggling eyebrows. ‘How often do you go?’

‘Twice a week. Three times if he can squeeze me in,’ he answers simply, as if Jensen’s the weird one for not going.

‘Three? You are the reason nine people will have to die before he’ll do any squeezing on me,’ Jensen mutters without thinking, only realizing what it sounds like when he’s already spoken. 'Wait. That came out wrong. Man, you seriously lose three hours a week just lying on a table while a guy is giving you a back rub? It costs a fortune!’

‘Oh. Babe. You know it’s full body, or haven’t you and Genevieve made it to second base yet?’ Mike shakes his head, like he can’t believe he has to convince Jensen to go, and sighs. ‘It’s not like you’re spending the money on anything better, anyway. Or at all. Trust me, two minutes in and you’ll never want to leave. It’s better than sex.’

And that, right there, is Jensen’s cue to stop listening and start working again, which is the exact message he tries to convey when he gives the guy a tight smile and turns back to his computer.

‘Well, better than the sex you’re having, at least,’ Mike amends with a grin.

Jensen thinks he can actually feel his eyes pop out of their sockets at the words, so he covers his face with his hands quickly and nearly squeals, ‘For God’s sake, does everybody know?’

‘Yep,’ Mike replies with a smile. ‘You two are just about as subtle as one of Murray’s ads. Only time we ever see Danneel is when you two lovebirds fuck off to the backseat of your car for fifteen minutes.’

‘Twelve and forty-three seconds,’ Jensen automatically corrects from behind his hands. He winces the minute it’s out and really hopes Mike didn’t hear.

Mike obviously did, though, and he fixes him with a look that doesn’t even try to hide how much he pities Jensen. He leans over, elbows resting on his knees, and narrows his eyes to tiny slits as his voice almost drops to a whisper. ‘Seriously, man. When’s the last time you had a good lay? An all-night fuckfest?’

‘It’s always good with Danneel,’ he sputters. God, could this get any more embarrassing? ‘We know each other’s bodies inside out.’

‘First of all, I don’t care how hot she is, that visual you just gave me is gross, dude. Second, knowing the quickest way to get each other off doesn’t mean you’re having good sex. It means you’ve been in the same position too long.’ Mike pauses, as if he’s actually trying to work out what position that would be exactly and adds, ‘And I bet it’s a really boring one too. Cowgirl?’

‘I’m not having this conversation with you,’ Jensen says gruffly, ignoring the blood burning in his cheeks and attempting to focus on the report he was writing, but it’s too late. Mike’s words have opened the gates and he’s already recalling images of Danneel, Danneel and him, Danneel and him naked and suddenly, he’s all too aware he’s had a woman touching his naked body for the better part of an hour and nothing happened.

‘I mean it,’ Mike continues as he moves to sit himself on the backrest of the armchair and draws his feet up on the leather cushions. ‘Coming so hard you think your eyes are gonna burst out of your skull or that your head is gonna fall off if you don’t lie down. Do you have that with Danneel? Does she have that with you?’

Jensen’s brain takes just a few moments too long to process all of that, because it’s busy imagining what Mike’s talking about and all the blood that previously was bunched up in his cheeks is starting to slowly make its way down. When he finally does speak, it’s completely obvious he’s speaking mostly to himself. ‘That doesn’t have to happen every time. Sex can be good without all that.’

God, it even sounds pathetic to his own ears.

‘Blasphemer!’ Mike almost yells. ‘That’s what women tell us so we won’t feel bad.’

‘So, you mean. That you and- She- Every time?’

‘Every single time, my friend. It’s hard work sometimes, but it’s worth it. And you know me, I’m all about giving,’ Mike tells him, sounding as if he passes around orgasms like he hands out Christmas presents (which Jensen supposes should be an indicator of how much he’s exaggerating).

He goes over this in his mind, however, comparing it to him and Danneel (steady, sure, calculated, calm) and finally comes to the only logical conclusion, ‘Shit.’

‘Yep. And however you wanna look at it, your comfy little arrangement isn’t gonna last forever. Danneel is hotter than a volcano and sooner or later, she’s gonna find a pretty little airhead underwear model that is going to blow her mind. You really think she’s gonna choose your twelve minutes over the twelve orgasms he can give her?’

Jensen shakes his head, wishing the conversation was over because it’s never going to end good for him. ‘You have put way too much thought into this.’

‘That’s just nature, man. Primal instinct.’ Mike gets up and spreads his arms wide, as if what he’s saying is the message of the Second Coming. ‘Seriously, you gotta tie her down before someone else does.’

Without wanting it, Jensen is reminded of this thing Danneel wanted to try once, before he’d made Project Manager and still had time to try things. He thinks about the black silk he’d wrapped around her wrists and the head of the bed.

Then he realizes Mike’s actually staring at him with a smile that clearly says he knows what Jensen is thinking about.

‘Good visual?’ he asks, waggling his eyebrows. ‘Never thought you’d be the kind.’

‘What? You’re disturbing, Mike,’ Jensen croaks out, but he thinks there’s no way he could sound any less convincing. ‘There’ll be no tying of Danneel. I don’t have time for a relationship, it’s just sex. I can find that anywhere.’

‘Sure, as long as your right arm is rested.’

‘Dude.’ Jensen throws his arms up in the air, exasperated. ‘Really?’

‘Really, babe,’ Mike replies and winks.

‘Yeah, yeah. Get the fuck out, will you,’ Jensen tells him, as he finally moves back to his computer. He should make a point of not listening to Mike ever again. ‘I wasted enough time on you already. I got better things to do.’

‘Like Danneel?’ Mike says with a leer, clearly not believing the opening Jensen gave him. ‘All good and proper. Nice and rough.’

‘Fuck you,’ Jensen grunts as his friend gets up and opens the door.

‘That’s what she said,’ Mike yells for the entire floor to hear before he runs off, cackling like a maniac.

Jensen swears under his breath, angry that he’s let himself get distracted like that, for no reason at all. He’s even angrier his body appears to be really down with Mike’s entire train of thought. Well. Not down, exactly. More like up.

A couple minutes later, just as Jensen is considering going to the men’s room real quick, his cell beeps. Like it’s fate.

> _Just got served by hottest barista in northern hemisphere @ 42nd & Park. Got fifteen? D._

He shouldn’t. Really. That report has to be in tonight and he’s never going to finish it if he doesn’t do it now. Especially not if he goes to meet Danneel. He stares at his screen for a good minute, as if the thing might just write itself if he does it long enough.

Christ, he can’t believe he got half-hard because of a conversation. (And for a moment, it’s like he can actually hear Mike say, ‘That’s because your penis wants a challenge. If you want it to be healthy, it needs exercise, man, just like every muscle in your body.')

Eventually, he sighs and texts back,

> _Make that twenty._

He winds up pulling an all-nighter to make his deadline.

**XIII.**

When Jensen arrives at Sandover at 7:30 sharp the next Tuesday morning, the same mildly scary, bubblegum-chewing girl (who Jensen now knows is the infamous Katie, feared by many) is behind the desk. She disinterestedly informs him Genevieve overslept and tells him that she should be in in five minutes, so he can go and sit in the waiting room area or fuck off.

He sighs, annoyed, but turns to go sit anyway and is surprised when he sees Tom in one of the cream leather armchairs, reading a National Geographic magazine.

'I thought you never had to wait a single minute,' Jensen says, eyebrows raised, when Tom looks up.

'You don't, I'm early,' he says with a little smile. 'Wanted to beat the morning rush. What about you?'

'Genevieve overslept,' Jensen bites out, as if Tom might be the one to have sneaked into her bedroom and hidden her alarm clock. 'Apparently, she's gonna be in soon.'

'Happens to the best of us,' Tom says happily, not noticing Jensen's foul mood – or convincingly pretending he doesn't, anyway.

Jensen wants to say it doesn't happen to him, or at least it hasn't happened since high school, but he's too crabby to even open his mouth and talk. All he can think about now is his schedule and how messed up it's going to be when he finally makes it into the office. He's got four appointments, this afternoon, that he can't at all be late for.

Well, he can always skip lunch. Chris won't like it one bit, but it's not as if he hasn't ever done it before. Besides, he figures he's already doing him a favor by trying out this stupid massage-thing, so he could just give him this one.

A young girl -tiny like Genevieve, maybe a little more fragile even- walks in, clutching a clipboard to her chest as if she wants to protect it.

'Mister Welling, we're ready for you. And mister-' she says, trailing off as her eyes search her clipboard for something. Her jet-black hair is in a neat bun, she's wearing Sandover-scrubs and when she looks up with a friendly, somewhat shy, smile, Jensen notices she's got a mole next to her mouth. 'Ackles?'

Jensen nods, readying himself to get up and almost run to relax room four. But the girl drops her arms and gives him a sympathetic smile. 'I'm sorry, sir. Genevieve just called. She's stuck in traffic and she might be a while. Do you want to wait or should we reschedule for another day?'

He wants his money back, that's what he wants, and to get back the time he lost coming here for nothing. And while he's at it, he wants to forget he ever let himself get talked into this.

Tom must've noticed his distress, because he speaks before Jensen even has the chance to string together a semi-polite sentence.

'You know what, you look a little tense,' he says and ignores the pointed, angry look Jensen throws him. 'You could probably use this much more than me. Why don't you take my appointment with Jared?'

'What?' Jensen asks, confused, at the same time the girl says, 'Mister Welling?' as if she can't believe what he's saying.

'I'm serious,' Tom says, shoving his hands into his pockets. 'I've got the time to wait for Genevieve. My first meeting isn't till eleven. But you look like you're going to spontaneously combust if you have to sit here for another minute. So go.'

'Really?' Jensen asks again. 'You'd give up your appointment with Jared?'

'Just this once.' Tom winks. 'Besides, I haven't been with Genevieve before. Perhaps I like her even better.'

'Mister Welling,' the girl says, disbelief apparent in her voice. It's as if she thinks Tom is nine kinds of crazy for even suggesting this.

'It's okay, Sandy,' Tom says calmly. 'Mister Ackles and I are going to trade places for just one day. Payment can stay as it is. If you need me to sign anything, I'll come with you to arrange it.'

'Okay,' Sandy says hesitantly, frowning at the both of them now. 'Sure. I'll take you to Jared, sir. I'll be right back, mister Welling.'

Jensen gets up with a nod and turns to Tom before leaving. 'Thanks, man. I owe you.'

'Consider this extra incentive to do something about that crazy life of yours,' Tom tells him. 'I'd tell you to enjoy it, but I'm pretty sure that won't be a problem.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Jensen says as he rolls his eyes, but he smiles at Tom anyway.

With a bit of luck, he may even get to leave his desk for lunch, today.

**XIV.**

'First time with Jared?' Sandy asks as they enter the spa-area. 'It's a bit of a walk today. We move his reros around as much as we can. Some clients get pushy and try to see him without making an appointment.'

'Reros?' Jensen asks, fumbling with his phone to see how much time he's lost. 'Wait, what?'

'Oh, yeah, happens all the time.' She nods vigorously. 'They think they're being smart. Making an appointment with Jim or me or someone else and then looking for Jared's rero.'

Jensen raises an eyebrow at her and she smiles and shakes her head. 'Relax room. It's shorter. We've got about eighteen of them. Our clients are busy people and we want things to move fast around here, so we try to assign everyone their own rero. Easier for clients to find them that way. But since Jared got so popular, it's been almost impossible to keep it up.'

'Impressive.'

'You haven't even met him yet.' Sandy laughs. 'You're lucky to have a friend like mister Welling. Usually, it takes ages before you get in, if you get in at all. Lord knows I've been trying for months and I've known him since high school.'

'You're on the list, huh?' Jensen asks without thinking. When she nods, he wonders what this tells him about the guy. If he won't make time for someone he's supposedly been friends with for years, he's probably not going to like seeing Jensen instead of one of his regulars.

It's as if she's read Jensen's mind, because she quickly says, 'It's not his fault. He doesn't have much of a say in which clients he takes on. It's all about being fast and persistent,' she tells him. 'Although having a lot of money doesn't hurt. We're here, Jared's already inside.'

She motions him towards a door on his left that has _Relax Room 18_ on it, smiles encouragingly at him and leaves. It's only then that Jensen starts to feel nervous.

What will this guy say? If he's anything like Jensen, it probably won't be anything nice. Won't be much either. This whole thing might just seem like a little innocent switch to him and Tom, but what do they know about running a spa? This could have messed up their entire schedule and he has no idea how Jared might react to suddenly seeing this new guy on his table that he knows nothing about – and who knows nothing about him or the social conventions at a spa.

He glances at his phone again. He's late.

If he were Jared, he'd be royally pissed off. So, yeah, he's a little scared to go inside, but he figures that if this guy really is the miracle worker everyone's been saying he is, Jensen wouldn't want to miss it for the world – and he'll take the crankiness with a smile. He survived the awkwardness with Genevieve, he should be able to handle this too, right?

So he takes a deep breath, turns the doorknob and walks in.


	3. part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for [amie](http://spn_j2_bigbang.livejournal.com>spn_j2_bigbang</a>.%0Abeautiful%20art%20made%20by%20<a%20href=) can be found [here](https://amindaya.livejournal.com/2920.html).

**XV.**

"Rero" eighteen looks exactly the same as number four did, everything cream-colored and beige and smelling of oils and lavender, relaxing lounge music humming in the background. Only difference here is that it's not Genevieve who's standing by the table with the oils and lotions, rearranging stuff, but – holy mother of God – it's a tree. 

It's a gigantic, enormous tree of a man that's got his back turned to him, apparently oblivious to the fact that his client's just walked in. The infamous Jared isn't at all what Jensen had expected. When he thinks of massages and spas and everything that goes with it, he thinks of frail and gentle people. Skinny, tiny and soft – like Genevieve and Sandy. But this guy – Jensen is not short himself, but he can tell that Jared has a good couple of inches on him, easily. He's got longish brown hair that isn't wrapped up neatly in a pony tail (as it should be according to rules and regulations, Jensen is sure of it), but it's just carelessly messed up – as if he just rolled out of bed and didn’t even care to look in the mirror. He's wearing what Jensen assumes is the men's uniform of Sandover, very similar to what the girls are wearing, only it's a soft brown instead of cream, and the fabric doesn't do a thing to hide Jared's broad shoulders or his tan, muscular arms. Jensen's pretty sure this man is the exact opposite of gentle. In fact, he could probably break Jensen without even breaking into a sweat.

His throat goes dry at the mere thought of it, which prevents him from speaking – even if he knew what to say.

Jared turns around, then, and realizes he's got company. Jensen sees the look of slight befuddlement on his face and again has to admit the guy is nothing like he'd imagined. He may have the body of a professional boxer, but he's got the eyes of a newborn puppy and – he notices when Jared shakes off the confusion – the infectious smile of a five-year-old toddler.

'Hey, man,' Jared says, grabbing Jensen's hand and slapping him on the shoulder as if he's greeting an old friend, not a complete stranger. 'Didn't hear you come in. Hope you haven't been waiting long?'

'No,' Jensen says, eyes sliding down to his hand that Jared's still shaking, as if he expects something more, but Jensen isn't sure what.

Eventually, he lets go and takes a step back, taking Jensen in. He smirks and crosses his arms, after a moment, and says, 'Why, mister Welling, I guess you've had some work done.'

Jensen winces and rubs a hand over his face – of course, a couple of minutes ago, he was worried Jared might kick him out for not being a regular client, so how could he have forgotten to introduce himself? 'Right, I'm sorry, I-'

'Don't be,' Jared says, clearly amused, as he leans against the massage table.

'Genevieve was late, so we switched, swapped places,' he continues, and mentally kicks himself when he realizes he still hasn't said his name. What happened to his people skills? If his last massage with Genevieve was awkward, he can't even begin to imagine what this one is going to be like with this kind of rocky start. 'I'm Jensen, Jensen Ackles.'

'Hello, mister Ackles,' Jared says, smile still on his face. 'I'm Jared. How can I help you?'

'Jensen,' he repeats emphatically, insisting for the first time in possibly a year that people immediately call him by his first name. Yet somehow, it seems weird for this giant to call him mister – especially if he's going to be lying on his table half-naked. It’s not like either one of them has been sticking to protocol today. 'You don't mind the switch?'

'Not at all,' Jared says happily, rubbing his hands together, and Jensen gets the impression he’s really genuine about it. 'I love to get my hands on some fresh meat. Just tell me where you want me.'

Jensen raises his eyebrows, startled, but can't keep from laughing until Jared rolls his eyes, waggles his fingers at him and amends, 'Where you want these, for your massage, pervert.'

For a moment, Jensen is worried that Jared is serious about it, that he's grossed out, but then the guy giggles. Not like a smirk or a roar of laughter, it’s an actual honest-to-god giggle and that sets Jensen off too.

‘You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for someone to laugh at that. I must’ve asked a hundred people the same thing and you’re the first one to think it’s funny,’ Jared says as he puts a towel down on the massage table. He stops and points at Jensen. ‘You gonna keep those on while I’m working on you?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jensen says again, quickly, and starts fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

‘Like I said, don’t be,’ Jared tells him, clearly amused by Jensen’s reaction. ‘And don’t be nervous. If you are, it means I’m not doing my job right.’

‘You haven’t done anything.’ Jensen flinches when Jared laughs at the apologetic tone of his voice and tries to save face by adding a feeble, ‘yet.’ Which only makes Jared laugh harder. Well, at least someone’s getting some entertainment out of this.

‘It’s enough to wind you up tighter than a spring,’ Jared counters. ‘Or are you always this jumpy?’

‘Depends on who you’re asking,’ Jensen answers with a weak smile. ‘I’m pretty sure my colleagues would say yes. Which is why they sent me here, I suppose.’

‘I’m not asking your colleagues.’ Jared’s expression is gentle and friendly, but Jensen can tell he’s deadly serious when he asks, ‘You don’t wanna be here?’

‘No, I meant-‘ Jensen sighs, hands dropping to his sides from his shirt that’s still only half unbuttoned. ‘I’m, I haven’t done this thing before. I saw Genevieve once but I get uncomfortable in these situations. Like, is it awkward when I talk to you? And am I supposed to take off my boxer shorts?’

Jared smiles again and takes a couple steps closer. ‘Jensen, you’re not supposed to do anything. That’s the whole point of these things. You’re not here to serve me, it’s the other way around. So if you don’t wanna talk, then you don’t talk. And if you want to, then you do. You can even decide if you want me to listen or not.’

Jensen nods and Jared gives him another pat on the shoulder before he moves towards the door. ‘I’ll give you a moment to relax and undress and when I get back, I’ll massage a bit of everything. Just get up on the table with your face down when you’re ready.’

‘Thanks,’ Jensen says, feeling a whole lot more at ease and gets back to his shirt. He turns when he hears Jared call his name from the door.

‘As for those boxers,’ Jared says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, ‘keep ‘em on for now. We’ll work up to that slowly.’

And for the first time since he’s set foot in Sandover, Jensen full-on laughs out loud and feels some of the tension seep right out of his body, as if it’s another shirt he hadn’t taken off yet.

*

Mike wasn’t lying, Jensen thinks when Jared’s working him over. Calling his massage just a massage would be like saying football’s just a game and sex is just having fun. It in no way comes close to describing how amazing it is.

Jensen thinks this might have something to do with the sheer magnitude of Jared’s hands, but as it is, he couldn’t care less – just so long as he keeps doing this.

Jared comes to Jensen’s neck, fingers kneading rhythmically on his muscles and rubbing oil into his skin, and Jensen’s mind practically goes blank with pleasure. He barely manages to stop himself from moaning out loud. Jared’s hands still for just a second before they come down heavily on the base of his skull, pressing into the bumps there. For a moment, the dull, almost-negligible headache he’s been ignoring for ages spikes, as if someone just drove a sharp, white-hot poker through his eyeballs and into his brain. Jensen hisses and flinches, but Jared persists, slowly rubbing in calming, soothing circles with his thumbs and Jensen feels the pain dissipate completely, as if it were never there.

‘Man, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’ve never felt muscles this high strung,’ Jared says suddenly.

‘Keep your hands on me and I won’t mind anything ever again,’ Jensen slurs without thinking. As soon as he hears himself say it, though, he can feel his face go red and cracks open an eye to see Jared’s reaction.

He’s smiling, working those dimples for all they’re worth, but he doesn’t say anything and Jensen immediately worries he’s ruined it by running his mouth. He clears his throat and tries to speak, find something to say to get rid of the awkward atmosphere, but Jared stops him.

‘Don’t tense up,’ he says as his fingers move back to that one sore spot. ‘And stop thinking. I like you better when you’re not doing it.’

‘Just because you’re not,’ Jensen blurts. He’s without an internal filter today, apparently.

For a second, he thinks he’s really blown it, but then he looks at Jared again and sees he’s shaking with laughter. ‘That’s more like it,’ he says as he pulls on the waistband on Jensen’s boxers and lets it crash into his skin with a loud snap before he moves to massage him further.

Jensen doesn’t really mind.

**XVI.**

‘No, it’s my round,’ Jensen says when he notices Chris is about to order them more drinks and it effectively shuts up the table. ‘I’ll get this one.’

‘You sure?’ Chris asks, as if he’s just suggested to chop off his left hand instead of paying for the beers.

‘It’s seven fifteen, Jensen,’ Tom says and clearly expects that to change his mind.

‘I can read the time, Tom, thanks,’ he says, confused, and fishes out his wallet anyway. When he gets back from the bar, three beers in his right hand and two in the left, they’re all staring at him as if they’ve never seen him before.

‘So I guess that means you liked Jared’s massages better?’ Tom asks with a grin when Jensen sits down and starts distributing the drinks. ’That’s tough. I’m not swapping more dates with you. Genevieve’s cute and all, but it ends there.’

‘Shit, he sure worked a number on you,’ Mike says and salutes Jensen with his bottle. ‘And you thought I was exaggerating.’

‘What are you guys talking about?’ he asks, completely befuddled.

‘It’s seven fifteen and you haven’t yet pulled out your cell to write a memo to yourself. You haven’t left yet. And this is our third round,’ Steve fills him in. ‘I can’t even remember when this last happened. Man, I gotta get me onto that kid’s list.’

‘I’m not swapping with you, either,’ Tom says immediately as he points at Steve, expression deadly serious. ‘It’s Mike’s turn.’

‘Forget it,’ Mike nearly yells, his arms outstretched as if he’s talking to a crowd. ‘There’s nothing I would not rather part with. Except my life. Except my life. Except my life.’

‘Stop abusing Shakespeare,’ Jensen says awkwardly, hoping to steer the conversation onto another topic. Chris narrows his eyes at him, though, and Mike elbows Tom in the side and smirks at him. ‘This has nothing to do with Jared. I’m just trying to have a nice ending to a nice day, that’s all.’

It’s true. Today has turned out – against all odds – to be a ridiculously good day. He managed to get most of his work done, had a very satisfying meeting with the people from Vaughan Insurance, he’s finally shot of that tension in his neck and shoulders that he thought he’d learned to live with and on top of that, he found out it was a “best of the eighties”-day on the radio.

‘A nice day that just happened to start with Jared’s nice hands getting all over you.’ Mike says with a leer. ‘Don’t tell me that’s a coincidence.’

‘It’s still just a massage, man,’ Jensen says uncomfortably. He doesn’t even believe his own words.

‘Oh, you did not,’ Mike says, one eyebrow raised. ‘Heathen.’

‘Jesus, Mike,’ Jensen tries again. ‘The way you keep fawning over this guy, people would think you’re crushing on him.’

‘Maybe I am,’ he says and Jensen, Chris and Steve stop to stare at him, waiting for an explanation. ‘I heard chicks dig it.’

‘You used that line already,’ Tom says as if he’s heard the story a million times before. ‘It didn’t work and Julie kicked you out when you tried to make out with her boyfriend to prove yourself.’

‘True. This place is phenomenally dreary,’ Mike admits dramatically. ‘I think I need a change of scene, find a new audience.’

‘Well, good luck with that,’ Chris says, pulling a face. Jensen could swear he’s actually grossed out by the guy and he has to laugh. Chris turns to him and smiles too. ‘You’re much easier to like, like this. Remind me to send that Jared-kid a thank you note.’

‘Shut up, asshole,’ Jensen says and laughs even harder.

**XVII.**

When he gets in to work the next day at eight, Mike is sitting at his desk and playing with his letter opener. As per usual, he’s got his boots in the leather armchair and Jensen can’t help rolling his eyes.

‘Mike,’ he says by way of greeting as he slams his briefcase down on his desk.

‘You’re late,’ Mike says without looking up. ‘I thought you’d already be here, slaving away. But that’s okay, it’s not like I had anything to do because I can _delegate_. I didn’t mind the wait.’

‘For what?’ Jensen asks.

‘Your apology,’ he answers as if it’s obvious.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Apology accepted,’ Mike says with a smile as if he doesn’t know how lame that reply really was and he puts the letter opener down. ‘You know, everyone’s skeptical about Jared at first. If I hadn’t felt it for myself, I wouldn’t have believed it either.’

Jensen slumps his shoulders – still impressed by how loose and relaxed his muscles are - and sighs heavily. He doesn’t even have the heart to be annoyed with Mike, because in all honesty, the guy’s right. ‘Yeah.’

‘That doesn’t sound like the happy sigh of someone who’s experienced the splendor that is Jared Padalecki,’ Mike says after a moment. ‘If I’d known, I would have let someone more worthy into our select club.’

‘Don’t I have to know the secret handshake first?’ Jensen asks absently as he starts rummaging through his files.

Mike laughs as if he’s taken completely by surprise by Jensen’s remark. ‘There’s a three time minimum before we can teach it to you.’

‘Then you can save yourself the trouble,’ he says. ‘I’m not going back to Sandover.’

‘What?’ Mike stares at him, entirely at a loss for words. Jensen makes sure to remember this occasion. It might never happen again. It’s true, though. Jensen gave long and hard thought to it and figures this is the best thing he can do.

‘I’m not on Jared’s list, Mike,’ he says eventually. ‘Tom and I switched places, but now I’m back to Genevieve. Which was awkward and uncomfortable and had me going home more stressed than I came in. I’m not gonna pay a small fortune for that.’

‘Such drama,’ Mike says.

‘Common sense,’ Jensen corrects him harshly. ‘I’m ninth on the waiting list to get in with Jared and I have no intention of waiting that long. He’s not that good.’

‘You’re lying and you know it.’

The world has to be ending, Jensen decides. Mike is never right, and definitely not twice in one morning. ‘Whatever,’ he says weakly. ‘If I’m lucky, I’ll get in in a year. A year. And that’s if no one wealthier or more important passes me by. God, how did you do it?’

‘Luck,’ Mike says and shrugs. ‘Sandover came to me for the PR when they’d just opened. Gave me a couple of free massages and I never stopped going. Jared’s all the PR they need now, though.’

‘Why didn’t you ever tell me before?’ Jensen asks.

‘Would you have gone?’ Mike retorts and Jensen has the ‘yes’ on the tip of his tongue, but he knows just as well as Mike that it would be a lie, so he shakes his head and sits down behind his desk without looking him in the eye.

‘Let me guess. You’ve got work to do?’ Mike says, sarcasm clear in his voice. ‘Already reverting back to your old ways. If I was any less selfish, I’d let you go to one of my appointments. I’m not sure I can take watching you mope all over the place again.’

‘You offered to let me go once,’ Jensen shoots back. He knows Mike well enough to know he won’t give in, but he figures there’s no harm in trying. He might just get lucky. ‘What changed?’

‘I never thought you’d actually want to go,’ he says honestly as he gets up.

‘You know I’m never gonna believe another word you say now.’

‘You‘d be missing out. I made you go see Jared, didn’t I?’

‘And look where that got me,’ Jensen says, trying not to laugh and throws a stapler after him that misses narrowly and hits the door frame with a loud clang.

**XVIII.**

The day passes pretty much like every other day. Jensen’s got his usual problems to solve and clients to satisfy, but somehow, his patience seems to wear exceptionally thin. He puts it down to having stayed at the bar too long yesterday and having to catch up today, or at least, that’s what he snaps at anyone who dares to ask him.

Because no matter how you look at it, it sounds incredibly ridiculous to say he’s getting edgy because he knows the next possible time for him to have a massage this awesome is almost a year away. And the more the thought pops into his head, the angrier he gets (at himself, mostly, but he masks that brilliantly by getting angry with everyone else) and the more he can feel his headache start up again.

It’s not that he’s a total wimp – he can take a bit of a headache. Hell, he’s practically had one for the past three years. It’s just that he thought it was something he’d have to live with and that was okay. But now that he’s gone twenty-four hours without, he’d do anything to not get it back.

Maybe he should try to pay Sandover that ridiculous fee to bump him up.

It’s six o’clock before he realizes that he’s spent the day debating it with himself while staring at the files he has to take care of without actually taking care of them and all he wants to do is run headlong into a brick wall and hope it takes him out.

When his phone rings a couple minutes later – a number he doesn’t recognize – he thinks that he might not pick up for the first time in his career at Ferris Inc. Why should he? His official work hours are only till five thirty and he has no intention of taking on yet another customer and adding even more to his already frightening workload.

That’s mainly the reason Alona always redirects customers that call after closing to his office, because Jensen always picks up. Unlike Mike and Tom.

Well, not today, he tells himself, even in spite of the way his fingers itch and the skin at the back of his neck heats up for fear he might be blowing off another big fish like Vaughan. But then the phone stops ringing and he figures there’s no way back now. If they really want to talk to him, they’ll have to call back.

Jensen hasn’t even finished the thought when his phone lights up and goes off again – same number. He eyes it warily for another ten seconds, as if it might explode, then sighs and grabs the receiver anyway.

‘Ferris Incorporated, Jensen Ackles speaking,’ he bites into it, again more pissed off with himself than anyone else.

‘Jensen, hey!’ a voice says cheerily, either not noticing or not caring how crabby he sounds. ‘It’s Jared.’

Jensen holds his breath for a moment, thinking he can’t possibly be talking to who he thinks it is.

‘Padalecki,’ the voice says a moment later, hesitantly. ‘From Sandover Spa?’

At this, Jensen snaps out of it and clears his throat. ‘Yeah,’ he grinds out, voice more gravelly and raw than he’d expected it to be. ‘I know who you are. I just don’t – why are you-’

‘Yeah, man. I’m sorry to be bothering you this late, I don’t wanna hassle you or anything,’ Jared says and Jensen could swear that he sounds almost shy. ‘I called earlier, but I think the receptionist misunderstood and she redirected me to Mike’s office. He told me I had a better chance of getting hold of you after six. I hope he didn’t make you stay after hours waiting for my call. I wouldn’t put it past him.’

Jensen laughs, foul mood instantly forgotten, in spite of the panic that’s setting in in the back of his head. Jared doesn’t know, doesn’t know that Jensen is only halfway through a normal day’s work. He doesn’t know that he really has nothing better to do with his life and for a moment, it is vitally important that he never finds out. Jensen just really wants one person in his life that doesn’t judge him for it or that doesn’t mock him. Someone that can get to know him and doesn’t have any prejudice about how a person who works this much can’t possibly be or have any fun.

He’s been quiet while mulling this over and Jared’s apparently taken his silence as a confirmation of his theory on Mike.

‘Shit, that’s exactly what he did, didn’t he?’ he says, sounding really cut up about it. ‘I’m sorry, man. If I’d have known, I would have called earlier.’

And just like that, Jensen’s mind is made up. ‘No, no. One of my clients couldn’t make it here for a meeting till five, so I stayed a little longer. They left about ten minutes ago,’ he lies through his teeth. ‘You’re in luck. Five more minutes and I’d have been gone.’

‘Must be my lucky day,’ Jared agrees.

When he doesn’t say anything else, though, Jensen waits for a moment before asking, ‘So. What can I do for you?’

‘Right, no, I wanted to let you know that my last appointment fell through, today,’ he says. Jensen can hear him breathe through the receiver. ‘So I’ve got an opening in my schedule that needs filling.’

‘And you’re asking me?’ Jensen blurts without thinking. Jared appears to have that effect on him.

‘Only if you’ve got time and if you want to,’ Jared tells him.

‘What about your list? There’s eight people before me,’ he says, wondering if somehow, through some freak bout of coincidence, all of them did manage to kick the bucket.

‘I don’t know those eight people,’ Jared says simply. ‘If they have time to wait an entire year to get in with me, I doubt they need serious working on.’

‘What time?’

‘Nine. I’m in rero six,’ he answers happily. ‘So you’ll come?’

Of course he will. There’s no way he’s gonna pass up an opportunity like this one. So he sighs and says, ‘Those eight are gonna hate me for this.’

Jared laughs, it’s a full and throaty laugh, and Jensen can’t remember the last time he managed to elicit something like that from someone. ‘Yeah, they really are.’

**XIX.**

For some reason, Jensen’s actually nervous when he steps into Sandover. It’s not really bustling with people the way it was on the mornings he came in, but it’s not exactly calm either. There’s a girl behind the desk he hasn’t seen before and there are couple masseuses walking through the halls, a few of them with clients by their sides. He runs into Genevieve when he is looking for Jared’s rero and he’s slightly surprised when she smiles warmly at him.

‘Mister Ackles, hello!’

‘Hi,’ he says awkwardly, not slowing down entirely in hopes of shuffling past her without having to talk more.

‘I heard you got in with Jared,’ she says and Jensen wants to curse. ‘Well done.’

‘Yeah, he-‘ he starts and falls silent. He doesn’t know how to explain this. ‘It’s not that – you –‘

‘Oh no, don’t worry about it. I could get your muscles to loosen up, but I’d need double the time Jared does.’ She puts a hand on his arm and drops her voice slightly, as if she’ sharing a secret. ‘He’s a fantastic guy, you know.’

And that apparently concludes their conversation, because she smiles at him again and walks off, leaving Jensen a bit confused as he continues to make his way to Jared.

When he gets in, Jared isn’t there yet, so he decides to get ready and undressed. The sooner he can start, the sooner they can both go home. Not that he wants to, Jensen realizes to his surprise. Even if the guy’s half as good as he remembers, he’d gladly spend the rest of his life with Jared’s hands on him.

He frowns at the thought as he folds up his clothes and starts when he hears someone clear their throat behind him.

‘Jesus,’ he breathes as he spins around, hands automatically flying to protect his crotch.

‘Easy there, cowboy,’ Jared says. ‘I’m not gonna hurt you.’

‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ Jensen says by way of excuse as he picks up his pants from the floor. He hates how petulant he sounds. ‘Could’ve been anybody.’

‘Like another masseur that sees naked people on a daily basis?’ Jared says and crosses his arms in front of his chest. ‘You’re nothing special, you know.’

‘Not with my boxers on, no,’ Jensen says, trying to retain a shred of dignity.

Jared barks out a laugh, as if he didn’t expect Jensen’s answer in the least. ‘By all means, take ‘em off and I’ll be the judge of that.’

Jensen smirks at him. ‘I don’t put out until the third date.’

‘Damn.’ Jared laughs and Jensen joins him. It’s been ages since he’s felt this comfortable around anyone and it’s weird, considering he’s not really wearing any clothes and Jared is pretty much the biggest and strongest guy he’s ever seen. But somehow, Jared doesn’t make him feel as if he has to perform around him. It’s easy.

‘Alright, princess, hop on,’ Jared says and pats the massage table. ‘I was thinking we focus on your shoulders tonight, get them to loosen up so that headache won’t return and-’

‘How did you know?’ Jensen interrupts him. ‘About the headache?’

‘You mean besides your shoulders not being hunched and that frown that’s disappeared from your face?’ Jared asks, eyebrows raised. ‘I’m good at what I do. So shoulders this time, actual fun is for later.’

‘This isn’t the good part yet?’ Jensen asks. ‘Wait. Is there gonna be a later? I thought you were all booked up.’

Jared prods him in the side to get him to shut up, and considering it’s one of the few places a single touch can make him turn into goo, it’s pretty damn effective. ‘I can’t say for sure yet, I’ll have to ask reception, but I think this client dropped out. I’ll tell them to let you know if it’s the case.’

‘That’s great, man, thanks,’ Jensen tell him, eyes falling shut as Jared’s expert hands rub on the sore spots underneath his shoulder blades. ‘Only if you’ve got the time, though.’

‘Someone cancels, spot has to be filled,’ Jared says, ‘I got very little to say about that. Doesn’t mean I can’t pull some strings to get the right people in, though. Or I can try, at least.’

‘So you always work this late?’ Jensen asks.

‘It’s not work if you love what you do,’ Jared says simply. ‘It’s not like I’m cooped up in an office behind a computer. I meet people and get to talk about their lives. I get a change of scenery constantly. That’s pretty awesome.’

‘Yeah,’ Jensen says quickly. ‘Offices aren’t that much fun.’

‘Shit,’ Jared says dejectedly. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. To each their own, right? If you like that kind of thing, I’m sure it’s the best job ever.’

‘Yeah, no, you’re right,’ Jensen says and he hopes he doesn’t sound as if he’s totally lying his ass off the way he is. ‘There’s limits to how long and how hard you work, right? You gotta get the job done well, but you shouldn’t let it kill you, you know.’

‘Exactly,’ Jared says and massages the muscles that run along his spine. It feels so fantastic Jensen almost forgets he didn’t mean a word of what he’s just said.

**XX.**

After his hour with Jared’s up and he’s just making his way to his car, he gets a text from Chris.

> _Know you’re still at work. Quit it. Playing at 45th and Main. You in a better mood than earlier, come down._

On autopilot, he’s already got one of the standard replies ready (why type it yourself when your phone offers to say it much less awkwardly?), saying he can’t make it. But right before pressing send, he takes a moment to think about it and texts Danneel instead. He’s worked hard again today, he does deserve some fun. Doesn’t say anywhere that he has to slave away behind a computer all day, cooped up in an office. Maybe he needs a change of scene.

*

By the time he’s picked up Danneel and made it to the bar, it’s quarter to eleven and for a minute, Jensen thinks he really should make it to bed soon, or at least work on a couple more files. But then Danneel makes it back to him with a beer and whisky chaser and he forgets all about it. The place is already crowded and there’s a band playing the kind of mix between country and rock that he loves.

He spots Mike and Tom easily enough – as Danneel says, look for the girls with disgusted looks on their faces – but he keeps peering over the crowd for Chris and Steve for the next half hour before he realizes that they’re the ones performing.

It’s embarrassing as hell to realize that he hardly knows any of the songs they’re playing and by the time they’re done, Jensen has decided to buy these guys and himself so many drinks that none of them will remember it tomorrow.

So that’s why it’s about one thirty in the morning and he’s up on stage with Chris, playing Steve’s acoustic and belting out ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ as if his life’s depending on it and Chris keeps yelling, ‘This guy. I love this guy.’

He manages to drag Danneel up as well and they wind up doing the worst cover of ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’ he’s possibly ever heard, but it’s the most fun he’s had in ages. He doesn’t want it to end, he realizes faintly, because when it does, it’ll be back to numbers and clients and graphs and sucking up and staring at the large breasts with tassels on them that currently serve as Murray’s desktop background while his designers are comparing him to tea-drinking nazi-robots or whatever. Not that he minds. The boobs. He likes boobs. A lot. He doesn’t drink tea. They’re pretty. Especially Danneel’s. Boobs.

Which he’s apparently said out loud, because she throws her head back as she laughs and says, ‘They like you too, honey. They think you’re cute when you’re drunk.’

Mike promptly takes Jensen’s beer out of his hands and says, ‘I think that’s your cue to stop drinking and start doing something more fun.’ He pokes Jensen’s belly as if it’s a secret sign and frowns. ‘What happened there, tubby? Seems like you could use the action.’

‘More fun?’ he asks, puzzled, while still making a pass for his beer, but then Danneel grabs his outstretched hand and smiles at him and he catches on. Only then his mind seems to process what Mike said next. ‘Tubby? I’m not fat. I’m manly.’

‘He didn’t say that and he’s too drunk to have meant it anyway,’ Danneel says as she drags him towards the doors. ‘Why don’t you show my boobs how manly you really are?’

*

He wakes up with a groan as he tries to roll over and is rolled straight back –rather roughly. He groans again.

‘Don’t for a minute think I feel sorry for you,’ a voice says. Jensen’s too busy trying to determine what’s up and what’s down that he doesn’t even think it strange there’s another person in bed with him. ‘You can’t hold your liquor, you don’t drink. I thought you’d’ve learned by now.’

When the world seems somewhat stable, Jensen dares to open one eye and squints at Danneel – a pissed Danneel, apparently. She’s got Jensen’s glasses on her nose and she’s reading one of those glossy girly magazines. ‘Oh,’ he says, voice raspy and rough. ‘Did we -‘

‘You tried valiantly, sweetie,’ she says without looking up. ‘Then you passed out. Then I fell asleep and woke up because you were gone and I looked all over the house for you and found you puking out your soul out back. Don’t go out on the terrace without shoes.’

‘Oh,’ Jensen says again and smacks his lips. He did think there was a foul taste in his mouth. ‘Sorry.’

Danneel sighs and puts aside the magazine. She peers over his glasses at him easily, they’re much too big for her, so they’re sliding down her nose. ‘So much for being manly, huh.’

‘I said that?’ he asks and buries his face in his pillow. He’s a feeling he already knows the answer.

‘That and many things more,’ Danneel answers and pats him on the back as if she’s trying to comfort him. ‘Don’t worry, it wasn’t all bad. And kind of refreshing, having you be that honest.’

Her hand hasn’t left his shoulder yet and right now, it’s slowly but surely making its way to lightly trail over his ribs and fuck it, she knows what that does to him. Jensen can take a hint when he gets one.

‘So you think it’s true that I’m manly.’ He rolls on to his side, giving her and her hand more room to move while his own fingers seek out the back of her left knee. ‘Intriguing. What else did I say?’

‘I think you think it’s true, babe,’ she says, but she laughs and crawls on top of him anyway. She runs a hand through her hair, sweeps it out of her face and leans down to kiss his chest. ‘You did say my breasts were pretty, though.’

‘I did?’ Jensen smiles as his lips find the sensitive spots on her neck. ‘I’m sure my judgment was clouded last night. Maybe I need another look.’

She bites down hard on his earlobe as payback for what he said –which Jensen actually sees more as a reward- but she complies anyway. She stills for a moment after, though, and asks, ‘You sure you got the time?’

It hadn’t even crossed Jensen’s mind to look at the clock, but now his heart stops as his eyes dart over to the alarm on his bedside table. It’s seven thirty. Normally, he’d have been at work already.

Then he looks back at Danneel and he can see in her face that she’s almost expecting him to throw her off and run for the bathroom. She’s gorgeous. Even with messy hair and smudged mascara under her eyes.

It’s a miracle she’s still here, he realizes, not just after he passed out, but after their entire relationship. After everything. He shouldn’t take that for granted, ever. He’s late anyway. And he does kind of owe her, after last night, doesn’t he? Least he can do is make it up to her now.

‘Yeah,’ he whispers and kisses the soft skin where her earlobe and jaw meet. ‘I got all the time you need.’

**XXI.**

He’s in his office by nine and spends the morning alternating between nursing a hangover that hasn’t completely subsided yet and sending a couple of smaller cases to his assistant to finish up. It’s far from ideal, but if he wants to make his deadlines, he has no choice. When it’s almost noon, he decides he can’t work like this and starts rummaging through his drawers for aspirin. It’s that exact moment that Mike chooses to burst in, fuming, and slaps a sheet of paper down on his desk that Jensen doesn’t even look at.

‘Morning,’ he says gruffly.

‘You billed me!’ Mike yells and points at the paper.

Jensen finally puts in the effort to read what apparently is a bill for a yearlong membership at a health club and gym couple of blocks down. A pretty pricey health club and gym. It’s in Jensen’s name, but the billing info is indeed Mike’s.

‘You billed me!’ he says again, as if Jensen didn’t hear him the first time.

‘That’s what you get for calling me fat,’ Jensen says with a smirk.

‘Neither of us even remembers it!’ Mike says, voice never lowering in volume. It’s true, he wouldn’t have known if Danneel hadn’t filled him in about everything that had happened last night. He doesn’t even remember getting the membership, but he does know that his computer was on when he got up and Danneel swears it wasn’t her who booted it. ‘I’m not paying. You can forget about it.’

‘Look at it this way,’ Jensen says and returns to the bottle of aspirin he just managed to locate, ‘it’s a whole new array of women for you to harass. That’s your new scene, right there.’

Mike takes a second to think about it, before he shakes his head. ‘I got a sweet ass and women aplenty, tubby. I don’t need it. I need my money back.’

‘Well, I figure, if you’re not getting me in with Jared, this is the least you can do, right?’ Jensen says and winces at the throbbing in his head. ‘And I’m not tubby, jackass.’

‘Right,’ Mike says, one eyebrow raised as he waves the paper at him. ‘That’s why you decided to get a health club card, is it?’

‘That you are paying for!’ Jensen says.

‘Not likely,’ Mike snorts.

‘You’re right. I guess I’ll just have to keep moping about being fat and tense,’ he says, trying to keep as straight a face as he possibly can. ‘You mind if I do that at your place tonight? My sister left the Sex and the City-movie last time she visited. I bet that’ll cheer me right up.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Mike says, eyes wide as saucers.

Just when he wants to make him squirm even more, his phone starts ringing and Mike runs off so instead, he yells after him. ‘Ben and Jerry’s good for you?’

He answers the phone with little more than a grunt which resounds loudly in his ear, making him think for a second that there’s something wrong with the receiver. But then Jensen thinks he can hear chewing.

‘Congrats. Eight people want to drink your blood,’ a girl’s voice suddenly bites out. ‘I’m one of them. Jared’ll call you.’

Before he can even say anything, she’s hung up on him and he spends another fifteen minutes just staring at the phone until he figures out that it was Katie and he’s just been put on Jared’s list.

He is now a regular with Jared Padalecki. How about that.

*

‘Hello?’

‘Am I tubby?’ Jensen asks immediately.

Weirdly, hearing that he may now get to enjoy Jared’s hands on him on a weekly basis has done very little to cheer him up. He’s actually quite worried about it. Mike’s remark has stayed with him all day and right now, all he can think about is that the last thing he wants to do is take his clothes off and lie on a table, half-naked and ready for judging.

‘Is this a dream?’ his mother asks in return. ‘Or just a really bizarre case of déjà-vu?’

‘What? Momma, it’s me,’ he says, frowning.

‘I know it is,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘It was you at four this morning, too, asking me the exact same question. Didn’t take the time to say hello then either.’

‘Oh,’ he says, embarrassed. Jesus, what else did he do last night? ‘What did you answer?’

‘I said that you weren’t in your twenties anymore and undoubtedly very drunk to be calling me at such an ungodly hour,’ she says, ‘but apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because you got mad and hung up on me.’

‘So that’s a yes,’ Jensen says and slumps his shoulders. He wants to ask his mother another question, but before he gets the chance to, he hears her mutter something that sounds suspiciously like, ‘spawned the devil’ and someone sighs loudly into the receiver.

‘Hello? Momma?’ he asks when no one speaks for a moment.

It’s not his mother that answers, though, it’s his father. He must’ve really pissed her off now, then, because she never hands the phone to his dad unless she really doesn’t want to talk to him anymore.

‘Son,’ he says, ‘your mother’s a bit busy right now.’

‘How bad is it?’ Jensen asks.

‘Well,’ his father says and Jensen could swear he’s actually amused by this whole thing. ‘She’s currently going through the liquor cabinet, if that’s any indication.’

‘So we’re looking at flowers?’ Jensen’s already looking up florists on the internet. ‘And a card?’

At that point, he thinks he can hear his mother say something about him being raised by wolves and his father adds with a chuckle, ‘Maybe some chocolates too.’

They’re quiet for another moment before he speaks again. ‘Son, you know, maybe I can help?’

‘I just wanted to know if mom thought I was tubby,’ Jensen tells him. He hates talking to his father about stuff like that. Alan Ackles is a very reasonable guy and he’s very understanding, he’s very laid-back and always knows how to put things in perspective. It makes Jensen feel ridiculous asking him for advice, like he’s four years old again and trying to fit in with the grown-ups. ‘But it doesn’t matter.’

‘You’re right,’ he says softly. ‘What we think doesn’t matter. If you feel tubby, then you should do something about it, son.’

‘I don’t know if I feel tubby, dad,’ he says. ‘I didn’t feel unhappy either, until everyone told me I did.’

‘Food for thought,’ Alan says and Jensen can tell from his tone that the conversation ends there.

‘Sure. Thanks, dad,’ he says. ‘Tell mom I’m sorry. Talk to you guys later.’

After he’s hung up, he takes out the bill that Mike dropped off at his desk earlier and sighs. What the hell. It’s paid for, anyway.

**XXII.**

'There he is, my favorite piece of meat!' Jared nearly yells, arms in the air as if he's just won a trophy, when Jensen walks into his rero.

'Aw,' Jensen says, laughing as he starts to loosen his tie. Good thing he went to the health club before he came here. 'I bet you say that to all the girls.'

Jared doesn't even miss a beat when he winks obscenely at Jensen and answers, 'Only the ones I think I got a shot with.'

'Come on, Jared,' he retorts, 'we can't all be as easy as you.'

'I resent that!' Jared's trying to look angry, but he's failing horribly. Nevertheless, he manages to continue with a straight face. 'My last date was completely enamored by my suave Guitar Hero and delivered pizza plans.'

Jensen snorts as he neatly folds up his shirt and trousers. 'Does she know what "enamored" means? Because I don't think she'd agree with you if she did.' He pretends to think for a moment and then adds, 'And if she does, introduce me to her so she and I can have a sordid affair.'

'I don't really think you'd hit it off,' Jared says with a smile, patting the massage table in front of him to get Jensen to lie down.

'Are you kidding me? A girl that likes Guitar Hero and pizza? I'm about ready to propose,' he says and only then realizes that he's probably talking about Jared's girlfriend and that he might just have crossed the line. He hopes Jared knows he's kidding.

'Yeah? You like the game?' Jared asks, as if that's by far the most intriguing and important thing Jensen's said. 'You want a full body?'

Jensen hums contentedly when Jared's massive hands touch down on his shoulders, feeling the tension seep out of them instantaneously – not in the least because Jared doesn't seem to take offense at his remarks. It takes him a few moments to remember that Jared asked him another question too. 'Yeah, I like it. I think I'm fairly good at it, too.'

In truth, Jensen hasn't given it more than four goes, maximum, at the Guitar Hero-night in the bar (totally wiping the floor with Chris and Steve, he might add), but considering that it combines the two things in his life he actually makes time for every once in a while (music and games), it's not too much of a stretch to believe that this game is his favorite thing in the entire world. Next to Jared's massages, probably.

Not that he'd tell Jared any of that.

'Really?' Jared asks, sounding excited. 'I'm like the king of Guitar Hero. Undefeated champion.'

'If you keep playing it with your dates, that's not surprising,' Jensen slurs, hardly managing to stay coherent when Jared's hands move towards his lower back and work out the kinks there.

'Shut up,' Jared says, and Jensen can hear he's smiling. He can feel a warmth spread through his body, starting from his stomach. Which is all to do with Jared taking a moment to massage his sides, using just enough pressure to not make it tickle, hitting all the right places. 'Don't underestimate girls. Sandy can play a mean "Eye of the Tiger".'

'She's on your waiting list,' he says without thinking. The moment the words are out of his mouth, he grinds his jaws together, though. No point in getting more feet in, today.

'Oh, I know. She's been giving me grief about that for ages,' he says. His hands still for a moment. 'She already told you, huh?'

Jared asks the question as if the fact that she did is supposed to mean something.

'Yeah, first time I met her,' Jensen tells him.

'Aw man, I'm gonna have to have a word with her about that, badmouthing me to clients,' Jared says, but he still sounds as if he's laughing. 'I've offered her maybe a million times to just do it at our place after hours, but she keeps refusing. I can't help it I've got very little to say about my schedule.'

'Why does she refuse?' he asks, craning his neck to get a look at Jared. He’s no idiot, he can put two and two together. Or, in this case, Jared and Sandy. And if Jared were his boyfriend, he'd make him do this every night.

God, Jensen really hopes he didn't say that out loud. He glances at Jared, but he just laughs, pushes him back down and says, 'I guess she likes to complain a lot.'

'Oh,' is all Jensen can think of saying.

'No, it's 'cause I work longer hours and more days. She says that when work is done, it's over and I shouldn't have to massage anyone anymore,' Jared explains. 'I told her that I don't mind. I like my job, you know? It's more of a hobby anyway.'

'Really?' Jensen asks. He can't imagine what that must be like.

'Yeah,' Jared says enthusiastically. 'I love what I do. I don't think I'd be able to keep doing it if I didn’t. I told Sandy. I feel bad about it, you know, but as an employee, she gets a really good discount. Just not any other privileges.'

'So no bumping her up?' Jensen asks curiously.

'No bumping her up,' Jared confirms.

‘You did it for me, though,’ Jensen says carefully.

‘Yeah, but I’m not trying to teach you a lesson, except maybe that relaxing your shoulders is much less painful than not relaxing them,’ Jared says and squeezes the muscles in his neck softly. 'I really don't get why Sandy doesn't let me do it back home. It wouldn't cost her a thing and she wouldn't have to wait. But she insists she wants the full experience, lavender lotion and all. I think she's doing it to spare me. Like I need it.'

'She must be a real good girlfriend,' Jensen tells Jared. After a second or two, he adds, rather reluctantly, ‘I do like her.’

'I'm sure you do,' Jared says hesitantly. Jensen could swear there’s a hint of jealousy in his voice when he speaks. 'She's an amazing girl.'

'She said you've known each other since high school,' he tells Jared and tries to sound innocent – as if he’s trying to make clear that he’d never make a move on her. 'Is that when you got together?'

Jared laughs again, amused by what Jensen's said, though he can't fathom why. 'Oh, we have, but she's not my girl.'

'Oh,' Jensen says again, apparently reduced to mostly one-syllable words today. He doesn't want to think why the knot in his stomach seems to be untying suddenly.

'We're real good friends, though,' Jared continues. 'We share an apartment, not too far from here. We can just walk in to work every day.'

‘You should tell Genevieve to do the same. Her clients wouldn’t have to wait when she’s stuck in traffic again,’ Jensen huffs.

Jared completely stops massaging him this time, takes his hands off Jensen’s back and says, ‘I could put you back on her list if you want, no problem.’

It’s a genuine offer, Jensen knows. Jared doesn’t sound any less cheerful or friendly. He just wants to help him out, even though getting back with Genevieve is the exact opposite of help to Jensen. It would be awkward and a hassle and really, far more trouble than it’s worth.

So his emphatic ‘no’ that resounds for a moment doesn’t come as a surprise to him, even if he didn't mean to say it that loudly. But when Jared doesn’t start again immediately, he pushes himself up on his elbows to make sure he can see he’s serious. Which apparently looks completely ridiculous.

Jared almost bursts out laughing when he sees Jensen’s face and holds up his hands. ‘Alright,’ he says and sticks his tongue between his teeth to keep from laughing still. ‘Just checking.’

‘If I wanted her back, I wouldn’t be here,’ he says as he lies back down. ‘She’s a good masseuse, but I came here because I was told I wouldn’t have to wait. I came in twice and spent almost as much time in the waiting room as I did on her table. That’s not what I’m looking for.’

‘Busy life, huh?’ Jared asks, his hands back to kneading his muscles.

Jensen stops as he’s about to answer. He wants to say, ‘What life?’, but then he remembers that Jared is asking because he really doesn’t know and instead he says, ‘You know. Just the usual stuff.’

‘Family, friends, work,’ Jared lists. Jensen has to assume he’s working alphabetically here and not in order of importance, because that’s not the order he would’ve gone for. Jared finishes – rather hesitantly - with another question, ‘Girlfriend?’

‘Work-out,’ Jensen corrects him.

‘I can tell,’ Jared says easily. ‘You’ve got an awesome body.’

Even though Jensen suspects Jared is lying through his teeth, he feels a warm glow spread out all over him and feels really proud of himself for going to the gym.

‘Really no girl?’ Jared asks again. ‘I expected you to be only an inch from picket fences and 2.4 kids.’

‘Why?’ Jensen asks. He can’t imagine anyone less suited to that kind of life. It almost sounds as an insult to him.

‘I don’t know, you look like you got it together, man,’ Jared says simply. 'Good looks, good job, good income, if you paying Sandover's ridiculous fees is anything to go by.'

‘No. I used to have a girlfriend, but it didn’t work out,’ he tells Jared before he even realizes he’s over-sharing.

‘Aw man, I’m sorry,’ Jared says and Jensen gets the feeling he really is. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘That’s alright, you didn’t break us up, Happened way before I cam here,’ he says with a shrug. ‘What about you? You with the girl that let you beat her at Guitar Hero?’

‘Dude. I can beat anyone on Guitar Hero, boy or girl.’

‘Put your money where your mouth is, is all I’m saying.’

Jared laughs loudly at his suggestion, as if he’s delighted by it. Jensen realizes, a bit too late, maybe, that Jared did a real good job of diverting the subject, but he supposes that's only fair. Not everyone eats their foot with disturbing regularity, as Jensen does. If Jared thinks it's none of his business, that's fine by him.

‘Fine, give me your number and we’ll arrange a death match,’ he says cheerfully. Jensen hesitates for a moment, though, wondering if this thing is getting too familiar, too fast and Jared adds, ‘It’ll be easier for future appointments too, you know, if I can just contact you directly. Then I won’t have to call your work, or make Katie call you again.’

‘That would be awesome, actually,’ Jensen says with a groan. ‘I know it’s not done to say this, but that girl scares me.’

‘Yeah, she’s a pistol, ain’t it?’ Jared laughs again.

‘You could’ve said she’s on your list too, by the way,’ Jensen grunts. ‘I think I’m on hers now.’

‘She’s not that bad once you get to know her,’ Jared says and moves further down to massage Jensen’s legs and feet. ‘Just stay away from windows for a while.’

‘Gjreh,’ Jensen mumbles, feeling as if he might melt into the table, and thinks he’ll agree with anything if Jared keeps this up.


	4. part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written in 2010 for [spn_j2_bigbang](http://spn_j2_bigbang.livejournal.com).  
> beautiful art made by [amie](http://amindaya.livejournal.com) can be found [here](https://amindaya.livejournal.com/2920.html).

**XXIII.**

Jensen gets used to his new schedule pretty easily. His life’s not any less hectic ever since he started trying to unwind, though. In fact, he has a sneaky suspicion it’s even more busy, but it feels good. He still starts work early, gets in before everyone else and takes less coffee or lunch breaks, and he still works hard. Only he won’t work at all on Thursday nights, which is when he has his appointments with Jared, and leaves at six two times a week to get a work-out.

Going to the gym actually turns out to be a good move. He’s only been going for about three weeks, but he notices the difference already. He feels better, has more energy and his slacks don’t seem to be as tight as they used to be.

He’s not the only one who’s noticed. He can’t say for sure, but he thinks he’s seen Jared’s eyes sneak a look up and down his body when he’s undressing, lately. Nothing funny or anything, not like, checking him out or something. It’s only normal, probably, like he's checking out the competition he's got. Jensen does see Jared only once a week – the guy’s got a much better overview of how his body’s changing. And it’s not like it’s big changes or anything, but Jensen is pretty sure he’s laying the foundations for a six-pack like Jared’s. 

And Jensen doesn’t mind. He can see that he looks better like this. Not that he had a problem with what he looked like before – he’s never really lacked any self-esteem, not really. Like, he knows that he’s an okay guy, he’s probably not the easiest person to be around all the time, but he wouldn’t consciously hurt anyone. He’s not mean if he can help it. And he knows that he’s not entirely bad-looking. He hasn’t always been fond of his freckles and he really would like to be just a little bit taller, but it’s not like he can do much about those things.

That said, it _is_ easier to take his clothes off for a massage now, and it gets easier every time he notices how Jared’s hands rest on his arms or waist just half a second longer than they used to. Sometimes, Jared will even throw in these random comments about his body, that it looks awesome and that he has trouble believing Jensen doesn’t have a girl. It’s ridiculous to admit, but it makes him feel really proud and good. He feels a bit more wanted now.

Not by Jared. Just. In general. 

And _he_ wants more, too. He doesn’t think he ever saw Danneel as often when they were still a couple as he does now. It’s pretty much the same as it always was, when they’re together – still the same dance of his lips here and her hands there – but he can tell she takes her time now. She lets her hands get to know the places in between his sensitive spots, instead of just jumping from one to the other, and he can’t help but reciprocate. He can taste her again every time his lips touch her skin and he wants to now. He wants to take it slow like this, doesn’t want to stop until he can make her moan the way he did once without realizing what he’d done to cause it, doesn’t want to stop until he knows all the spots that make her do it.

If he’d done this when they were still together, maybe they’d have had a better shot. But every time the thought pops up, he realizes that he couldn’t be bothered back then – and even if he could, he’s pretty sure something else would have driven them apart. Like how much it annoys him that she’s such a fussy eater, or how angry she gets over random comments he makes without explaining what it is that sets her off, or how her complete lack of a system for doing laundry and his obsession with sorting by color, fabric and type of garment makes both their blood boil. He loves her, truly, but not as his partner, and he’s grateful that they can still have this without it becoming awkward. They’re better like this, and the sex is more intense – even better than it was in the beginning.

He sleeps less, has to get up earlier sometimes, because he and Danneel take much longer than fifteen minutes nowadays, but when he wakes up one morning and she’s got her hand draped over his chest and a smile on her face, he thinks it doesn’t really matter.

It’s the first time he notices how tanned she is, or how entirely pale he is, as he slips his fingers into hers. ‘Golden brown all the rage this season?’ he asks when he sees she’s looking at him.

‘It is unless you’re a natural redhead,’ she says with a sleepy smile. ‘You don’t like it?’

‘No, I do,’ Jensen says, still comparing his hand to hers, and he suddenly thinks of Jared’s hands – big, rough-soft because of the oils and lotions and dark-skinned. Manly. Powerful. He looks back to his own and sees sandy-yellow and green veins, a bit of black marker from the day before, bitten nails, paper cuts. ‘Just thinking I don’t look very fashionable, then.’

‘Oh, Jensen,’ she sighs as she turns away from him with her eyes closed, her hair flopping in his face. ‘It’s not like you care about these things.’

He grunts in agreement, but he keeps looking at his hands for a few more minutes before getting up.

**XXIV.**

One Thursday, he’s almost late meeting with Jared because he runs past a tanning center and has to shower afterward because he smells. Which is why he ends up on the table with his hair still dripping slightly.

They haven’t spoken a word yet, which has never happened before, but it’s not uncomfortable at all. Jensen’s still pretty out of breath from rushing into Sandover and Jared only gave him a long, hard look when he came in as he was unbuttoning his shirt, and seemed to instantly get that Jensen needed a few moments to recompose.

He’s face down, looking away from Jared, and he can feel tiny drops run over his scalp, close to his left ear, over his neck and down to his right shoulder. It makes him shiver. Jared’s massaging his arm, but suddenly, he lets go and Jensen doesn’t feel anything for a moment until there’s the featherlight, gentle press of a finger slowly working its way up the trail the droplet left.

The touch is so intimate and soft – as if Jared’s not even touching Jensen’s skin, only the tiny hairs the water’s made stand on end – and it’s nothing like what he’s felt before. It feels so good that it takes him completely by surprise. Jensen shivers again and gasps - it’s loud in the room that’s completely quiet save for their breathing.

It appears to snap Jared out of what he’s doing, because he lets up immediately and goes back to Jensen’s neglected arm as he clears his throat. Jensen wants to groan at the loss, but he manages to stop himself just in time.

‘Didn’t realize it was raining,’ Jared says, breaking the silence. His voice sounds rough, as if he’s coming down with a cold.

‘It’s not,’ Jensen says. ‘I just took a quick shower. Wanted to get rid of the office smell, you know?’

Which isn’t a complete lie.

‘Oh.’ Jared’s quiet for another moment before he says, ‘You know, I think I got another opening on Saturday, like at noon or something. You wouldn’t be able to make it?’

‘Another cancellation?’ Jensen asks, but he has to smile anyway. ‘Seems to me you’re losing your touch, buddy.’

‘Shut up,’ Jared says with a chuckle and cuffs him softly on the head. ‘You want it? Would be a waste to call someone in from the list if this is the only time I’ll be able to work on them.’

Jensen’s already going over his schedule in his head. Saturdays are still reserved for work, and he needs to do lots of it. He’s been kind of slacking off lately, with Danneel and work-outs and going to a couple of Chris and Steve’s gigs. He could really use the entire day to meet old man Vaughan’s ridiculous demands.

And he wants to tell Jared that, he really means to do so, only, when he opens his mouth, he says, ‘Sure, man. Let me know when.’

By the time he thinks he’d be able to refuse Jared the way he’d meant to, he’s already rewarded with an enthusiastic ‘awesome’ and a foot rub that’s out of this world and he can’t bring himself to say it.

*

After going in to see him that Saturday, it seems Jensen can’t refuse Jared anything at all anymore. He’ll be at work, or at the gym, or with Danneel and Jared will call saying that someone was stupid enough not to show and Jensen will already have grabbed his keys and jacket.

In a way, it’s weird. It’s not like he really needs the massages anymore. His muscles feel fantastic, relaxed, and the only reason he still goes is because Jared unbelievably seems to get better and better at what he does. It’s the best part of the week for Jensen. He’ll just lie on the table for an hour and not think. He won’t do much of anything, but most of all, he won’t think. His head will just be blissfully blank and his body will enjoy the gentle-but-rough-in-all-the-right-places-touches that Jared puts on him. 

He wonders every once in a while, maybe, that a guy as sought after as Jared, with a year-long waiting list, shouldn’t really have this many cancellations. And that he shouldn’t be the only client to fill in the gaps. But frankly, he wouldn’t share this with anyone, not if he has a say in it. And people can keep canceling as much as they want. Because it’s become so much more than just a massage to Jensen, if he’s completely honest. Being around Jared, listening to a story he’s got to tell, it doesn’t take up any energy at all – it’s the complete opposite. It’s like he gets to switch off for a moment and each time when he walks out of Sandover, he feels like he’s a new man, inside and out.

So yes, once or twice (if he’s really lucky) a week, he’ll drop everything to drive out to the spa. He feels bad about it sometimes; he knows he’ll have to catch up work, or he’ll have to think up an excuse for getting away from Danneel or his friends for an hour. He thinks that this must be what having an affair feels like and that there’s no way this can end well. But when Jared’s hands touch down on his skin, he forgets about that instantly and just wonders what kind of idiot you’d have to be to give this up.

However, that’s only three hours a week, tops, that he can shut down. The other one hundred and thirty he’s conscious, he spends on work, going to the gym twice a week, getting a tan, meeting up with Danneel and pretending he’s got a social life. He doesn’t know how it happened, but he finds himself putting off work more and more to get to the other things. Jared’s still throwing in these remarks about his body – as are Danneel and some other people – and he wants to keep getting them, no matter what. He feels good now, and what feels even better, is that people see it in him. He doesn’t want that to change, so he’ll keep going to the gym and he’ll get a tan.

Which means that some nights, he has to go to bed a few hours later and that some mornings, he has to sneak away from Danneel much earlier than he’d originally planned. And that he has to let some files go by sending them off to his assistant to handle. The tight leash he used to have on his designers is a thing of the past too; he simply doesn’t have time to go over everything they do (even if he does keep an eye out for Murray’s work most of the time). It’s rough sometimes, and he hasn’t fully learned yet how to delegate properly, so that he does wind up pulling a couple of all-nighters every now and then. But he seems to be able to handle it, for now, and his bosses haven’t really complained yet, so he sees no reason to change tack.

**XXV.**

'Hey,' Jared says when Jensen walks into his relax room a couple of weeks later, 'you mind if I tried something different with you?'

‘Like I give you a back rub?’ Jensen says and tries to ignore how the thought of getting his hands on Jared’s skin makes his face heat up. He always says the most ridiculous things when Jared is around. The fact that he’s so tired he could sleep for a month doesn’t seem to help.

‘If you’re offering.’ Jared laughs and makes to pull off his shirt, but drops it at the last moment and Jensen feels kind of disappointed. He just wanted to compare, is all. 'It's nothing scary or anything, I went to this seminar this week on new massage techniques and I really want to try it out on someone.'

'Why me?'

'I like you,' Jared says simply, as if it's obvious. 'You're one of the few clients I feel I can talk with, you know? Talk about more than just the weather or their jobs. I'm not afraid you'll hold it against me if I mess up.'

Jensen's quiet for a moment, because he's completely at a loss of words, while Jared is watching him expectantly. He knows Jared doesn't often think before he speaks, that he doesn't see any harm in saying things like this and it makes Jensen want to smile. A warm feeling pools in his belly and he nods his consent, because really, how could he refuse such unsolicited honesty? 'What is it?'

Jared's smile is so wide and genuine that Jensen can't help but reciprocate with the smile he's been trying to hide. 'Something to help you relax – you look like you could really use it. I promise you'll like it. We're gonna have to go to another room, though, this one's not equipped for what I want to do.'

He's practically bouncing through the hall as he leads the way for Jensen, who can't help but worry slightly at the relocation. 'You're not gonna, like, pop my joints or anything, are you?' he asks warily.

'Naw man,' Jared says, still smiling. 'I don’t need to practice that stuff. I'm actually a chiropractor.'

‘You’re kidding,’ Jensen says without thinking.

‘I never do,’ Jared tells him as he points for Jensen to enter a room to his left. ‘Columbia University. Now get your kit off. All of it.’

‘Excuse me?’ Jensen almost chokes on a breath. He’s not actually shocked because Jared wants him to take his clothes off, but only because his mind’s still processing that this guy, who could easily pass for a kid if you judged him by the way he acted, has spent more time at University than he did – and a much more expensive one, at that. Not that Jensen thinks Jared couldn’t do it, he just doesn’t look the studying type. 

But then he sees the way Jared’s looking at him and he can easily imagine him as the big guy on campus, the last one to leave the party with the cool guys and the hot girls throwing themselves at him.

Jensen didn’t exactly spend his nights playing chess, but even so, he was always a bit of an outsider. He’s had his share of pretty girls and he’s hung over more toilet bowls than he cares to remember, but he could never compete and suddenly, he feels really self-conscious.

‘Aw, come on, Jensen. You’ve been coming here for four months. I think we’re ready,’ Jared says, clearly amused by Jensen’s discomfort. He leans over as if he’s about to share a secret. ‘I promise I won’t laugh.’

And that snaps Jensen back to reality. No matter what he or Jared was like back in their student days, he feels comfortable around him now – more so than he’s felt around anyone lately, so he won’t be thrown by his comments any longer. ‘It’s not that which worries me. I wouldn’t want you to get insecure is all.’

Jared laughs loudly and throws him a towel. ‘Don’t get your hopes up. Take it off.’

Jensen swallows, yet he still turns away to get undressed and looks around the room for the first time. The floor is the same as in every rero he’s been in - stripped wood - but that’s the only thing. This room is much bigger, for starters, and the walls are painted in soft green. More importantly, there isn’t a massage table in sight. Only thing he can see is all kinds of gymnastics mats stashed against the wall furthest from him - round ones, square ones, thin ones, thick ones – except for one, which is in the middle of the room on the floor.

‘What is this, P.E.?’ Jensen asks, looking back at Jared. ‘If I’m gonna be doing laps, I think I’ll keep my boxers on.’

‘Sandover rents out these rooms to a couple of physiotherapists on weekdays,’ Jared explains. ‘But they’re empty on the weekends. So don’t make me tell you again to get your clothes off. I’m gonna run back to my rero and get a couple of lotions.’

By the time Jared gets back, he’s on the mat, resting his face on his crossed arms. He’s already draped the towel over his ass in hopes that Jared won’t figure out he’s still wearing his boxers.

‘No, turn over,’ Jared says when he sees him. ‘You need to lie on your back for this.’

Jensen looks up at him, confused, but rolls over anyway. Naturally, Jared spots his briefs as he does so and rolls his eyes at him. ‘Fine, if you wanna be a prude about it.’

He’s staring right at the ceiling when Jared steps into his view. ‘So, what do we do?’ he asks.

‘You do nothing,’ Jared says and points down at him. ‘Just close your eyes and relax. Don’t talk. Don’t think. I won’t be doing much of either myself.’

‘Business as usual, then,’ Jensen says as he closes his eyes.

‘Oh, you’re being extra funny today,’ Jared says in a mock cheerful voice. He sounds as if he’s coming closer and when Jensen cracks open an eye to check, he can see that Jared’s sitting down, knees on either side of Jensen’s head. ‘I never realized you were this funny, Jensen.’

When he laughs and wants to retaliate, Jared flicks his ear and says, ‘Shut up. Breathe deeply.’

His hands touch down on Jensen's face - it feels different, and also a bit odd. The silence between them is new and Jensen doesn't know what to think of it. Jared's fingers smooth out his forehead and eyebrows in one soft, soothing movement, each hand working from the center of his face to his temples. Jensen can smell the lotion he's using and even that's different. It' smells like honey and musk, and like a fireplace in a cabin in the woods. 

One finger carefully, almost lazily, circles his eyes for a while and when Jared moves to his jaw, Jensen can feel the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of his wrists rub over the stubble he forgot to shave this morning. He worries that if he keeps this up too long, Jared will get stubble burn, but he shushes close to his ear and quietly says, 'Don't worry. I know what I'm doing. Relax.'

It's as if he stays bent over for a while as he massages, because Jensen can clearly hear the calm, regular breaths Jared's taking and gradually, he falls into the same rhythm without realizing, filling his lungs slowly and completely before letting it out on one long exhale. Jared's fingers slide over to his ears, again tracing soothing circles over them. Jensen didn't even realize you could massage ears, let alone that it could feel so good. Even just the sound of Jared's fingers sliding over the shell of his ear adds tranquility to the moment. He takes his earlobes between index and thumb and presses them hard for a couple of seconds. It doesn't hurt, but Jensen tenses up anyway. When his fingers fall away, though, it's as if all his stress falls away with them.

Jared's nails dig into his hair and scratch his scalp with just enough pressure, still in those slow, circular motions that make Jensen's toes curl. Jared moves down to his right side now, fingers ghosting over Jensen's neck, shoulders and down his arm as he kneels quietly next to him. He takes his right hand in both of his and just sits for a moment. Jensen can feel the warmth of Jared's palms seep into his skin, can feel the calluses on his fingers that even the many lotions can't soften. It feels absurdly intimate for what's essentially a massage-therapist and his client. 

He feels Jared trace a hand up to his elbow, inhaling as he works his way up from the softness on the inside of his arm to the rougher skin on the outside on an exhale. He does it again, goes all the way up to his shoulder this time before he starts making his way back to Jensen's hand. Once more, Jensen finds himself synching his breathing with Jared's, slowing it down even more.

Jensen is so relaxed he doesn't even feel his body anymore, all he feels is Jared's hands. All he can think about are his steady, deliberate touches and the vibrating tingle that they leave behind as he smooths out each finger from root to nail.

Almost without a sound, Jared gets up again. Jensen wouldn't even have noticed if he hadn't suddenly missed Jared's weight next to him on the mat. He keeps contact as he moves, carefully maintaining a featherlight caress down his right side and up his left, as if he's afraid Jensen might wonder where he's gone. It makes Jensen feel safe and sheltered, like it's okay for him let his guard down because someone else is keeping it up for him. It is so liberating - especially since he didn't even think he still was stonewalling around Jared – that he can actually feel the warm glow it sends through him spread from limb to limb, blossoming slowly and steadily, buzzing under his skin.

Jared eventually sits back down on Jensen's left side and again gently cradles his hand in his palms, just letting it rest there for a couple of moments. This time, the pad of Jensen's index finger is right on the pulse point in Jared's wrist and he can feel his heartbeat: a slow, steady, soothing drone that seems to have set the pace for this entire massage.

It's only then that Jensen realizes – and it becomes more clear with every stroke or rub Jared puts on him – that it's not only his walls which are being broken down here. Jared too is letting his barriers slip and giving Jensen a chance to look in. It makes Jensen feel empowered and strong, but at the same time humbled and grateful, because Jared picked him out of all his clients – out of everyone - to share this with first. It's intense and intimate and peaceful.

After Jared is done with his left arm, he quietly makes his way back down to Jensen's feet and holds his ankles for a moment – again letting the warmth of his hands get under Jensen's skin. He lifts his ankles slightly and starts rocking Jensen slowly and steadily from the legs up. Jensen thinks he should probably feel a little ridiculous, but it feels so good, shaking off that last bit of tension as he's swaying left to right. Then Jared puts his ankles back down and trails a path down to his right foot with both hands. By now, he knows how sensitive Jensen's feet are and he takes his time rubbing just the right spots in just the right ways.

Jensen feels as if he's floating in water – wonderfully warm, calm water – skin tingling wherever he's been touched and by the time Jared moves on to his left foot, Jensen can't help but let himself drift off.

*

Jensen groans as he turns around, grabbing for the sheets on his bed as he does so. He doesn't immediately find them, but he's not cold exactly and he's still hovering in that wonderfully lazy place between dream and awake and wants to keep it that way for as long as he possibly can. Because he's having a good dream. A _really_ good dream.

He gasps a little when he shifts again, morning-wood almost painfully constricted in his boxer shorts, and tries to go back to the images that are already getting foggy on the edges. He can still feel the soft, hungry touches that were making him feel this good, though, and he gets back into it quickly enough. He lets the great, big, skilled hands run all over his body and Jensen wants to moan.

But then he hears noise that doesn't belong in his house and he frowns, the dream fading quickly. There's a rustle as someone walks by, steps too heavy and powerful to be Danneel's, and that's the split second that Jensen needs to realize he's not in his house or even in a bed at all.

His eyes snap open and he smacks his lips that he's apparently had parted for a while, because his mouth and throat are dry. He lifts his head disorientedly, peeling his cheek off the gym mat he's been lying on, and looks around the room, squinting.

He looks right at Jared who seems to be pottering around, cleaning up, and a ripple of excitement runs through his body. Suddenly, what he'd been dreaming about isn't at all vague anymore - it's crystal clear – and the moan that had been threatening to get out spills over his lips, unwanted. 

'Jared.' His voice is rough and husky. He sounds like an advert for porn, which hopefully Jared will mistake for drowsy. He wants to die, right now on the spot, and for a second he thinks he might of blue balls. Thankfully, he still has enough common sense left in him to rearrange his towel quickly so it's lying across his lap in what he hopes is a fairly not-tented manner.

If Jared noticed anything, he doesn't show it at all. He turns toward Jensen with an easy smile on his face. 'Hey. I didn't mean to wake you.'

He shakes his head, still trying to clear the last remnants of sleep from it and – if he has to be honest, the amazing visuals that popped into it when he saw Jared. 'I fell asleep?'

'Somewhere along the way, yeah,' Jared says. 'You looked so tired when you came in, I thought it was best not to wake you. Your hour's only been up for fifteen minutes or so, so you haven't slept long.'

''m sorry,' Jensen says to Jared's sneakers. He's too embarrassed to let his eyes go any higher.

'Not at all,' Jared says happily and crouches down near Jensen, as if he can tell Jensen can't look him in the eye. 'The whole point of this thing was getting you to relax. Mission accomplished.'

'Yeah, it's – er -well, intense,' Jensen says awkwardly as he shifts on the gym mat, pressing his legs together. 'I'd say that this is good enough for shop.'

'No, I think I'm gonna keep this technique for special occasions. Or special clients,' Jared smiles again, flashing his dimples at Jensen.

It doesn't help his hard-on.

*

Getting home from Sandover has never taken this long. Jensen gets every red traffic light he passes and he has to wait ten minutes before he can drive up his street, because apparently, some loser thought it was a good idea to honk maniacally at a carriage which made the horse freak out and cause an accident. All the while he sits in his car, he tries to block out Jared's touches – the ones from the massage and the ones from his dream – and that only makes things worse.

By the time Jensen finally makes it to his bathroom, taking off his boxers is almost enough to make him come. It's embarrassing and confusing and it's only the beginning. After that, Jensen dreams about Jared almost every night, and wakes up cursing every time.

**XXVI.**

‘Huh,’ Chris says when Jensen finally tells him about what happened (even if it’s a mostly censored version) as they’re both lying on the couch. They’ve got their feet up on the coffee table, in the few empty spots not covered in take-away boxes or empty beer bottles. The mess is actually completely blocking their view of the television, but they’re both full and on their eighth beer, so it’s not like they particularly care. 

Chris takes a long drag from his bottle and frowns. ‘So, are you gay?’

‘What?’ Jensen says, too high, too shrill and too quickly. ‘No. I’m not. Why would you say that?’

Chris lets his head lull slightly to the right, chin still leaning on his chest, and raises his eyebrows. ‘Come on, man. You’ve been raving about this guy for weeks, actually taking time off to go see him and now you’re thinking about canceling because of a dream?’ He stops talking for a moment, giving Jensen the chance to explain. He notices quickly enough, though, that his friend isn’t cooperating and decides to finish his train of thought. ‘That ain’t been a dream about getting a few beers after work. It’s more-‘

‘More like him shoving his dick up my ass while giving me a back rub?’ Jensen spits out, teeth grinding as he speaks.

Chris falls silent, then shifts on the couch and winces, as if he’s imagining what Jensen’s just said. For a second, Jensen actually thinks he’s won, but then Chris speaks again. ‘I was just gonna say “more than that”, but all right. Graphic works too.’

Shit. Jensen can feel the blood rush to his head, can feel his cheeks turn red and tries his best not to swear out loud.

‘Spit it out, you asshole,’ Chris drawls and nudges him lazily with his beer bottle. ‘You think I actually care?’

‘I’m not gay!’ Jensen says emphatically, wishing he’d never started the conversation. Fucking Chinese food. Sated feeling always makes him loose-lipped. ‘I’ve been with Danneel.’

‘I made out with Steve in college. Doesn’t make me gay. Just like you being with Danneel doesn't prove anything.’ Chris holds up a hand, as if he wants to amend what he's just said. 'Except maybe a gross error in judgment.'

Chris has never liked Danneel. Probably because he knows girls like her will forever and always be out of his reach.

‘Right, because compared to a serious relationship of-‘ At this point, Jensen’s brain catches on to what Chris has just said and the words he’d wanted to use completely escape him, all of a sudden. Along with the whole of the English vocabulary, which leaves him opening and closing his mouth a few times and he’s vaguely aware he must look like the most dumbstruck fish in history. When he does manage to form a complete sentence again, he croaks, ‘You did what? Like, by accident?’

‘We were drunk and horny,’ Chris says, waving a hand, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for him to spring on Jensen. ‘Weren’t any chicks around and we wanted to know what it was like.’

‘And?’ Jensen manages, feeling the heat from his cheeks spread to his neck and ears. He shouldn't want to know this badly. ‘What was it like?’

‘Well,’ Chris says, narrowing his eyes to slits, as if he’s trying to remember. ‘When you close your eyes, it’s just a mouth and tongue like any other. Especially when you’re drunk.’

Jensen raises his eyebrows. ‘Romantic.’

‘It’s true. That’s my point,’ Chris tells him, as if it’s obvious, even if Jensen can’t begin to understand what he’s getting at. ‘You looking at me different now you know this?’

Jensen rolls his eyes and snorts. ‘No.’ Steve and Chris, they would have tried just about anything back then. So why not this? ‘It doesn’t really surprise me, come to think of it.’

‘Exactly. Me either – I mean, I wouldn’t look at you different.’ Chris suddenly is quiet, clearly thinking hard.

Jensen supposes it’s time to put away the beer and start breaking into the water. He has to get up early and work a bit anyway.

‘Point is,’ Chris continues loudly and vehemently and it startles Jensen, because he’d almost forgotten his friend was indeed trying to prove something. ‘Point is, a mouth is a mouth, doesn’t matter if there’s stubble or not, you know. Whatever else there's attached to it shouldn't matter. As long as it’s the right mouth.’

_Definitely time to stop drinking_ , Jensen thinks and laughs. ‘No wonder you get all the girls with all that sweet talkin’.’

‘It’s not like you’d want them, anyway,’ Chris shoots back, but his expression is serious. ‘I mean it. As long as you find someone to make you happy, no one that cares about you is gonna trip over their gender, you jackass.’

‘Fine, I get it,’ Jensen says, holding up his hands in surrender.

‘Good.’ Chris nods and smiles. ‘So you’re gay?’

‘I’m-‘ Jensen swallows the not he wants to shout out, almost as a knee-jerk reaction and stops to think. He sighs and looks at Chris, who’s watching him expectantly, and lamely finishes his sentence with, ‘confused.’

Which isn’t any less true.

‘Well. That’s some progress, at least,’ Chris says and turns back to watch the television, even though they haven’t moved and still can’t really see the screen.

They watch silently for a while and Jensen’s almost convinced his friend’s fallen asleep when he hears, ‘Hey, Jensen?’

‘What’s up?’ he replies as he takes a swig off his beer, not taking his eyes off their feet and pretending he can see what show is on.

‘What’s this Jared-fellow got that I don’t?’

He freezes for a moment, alcohol making him slower to process new information, until he notices the sniggering Chris is trying – and failing - to hold in and the obvious shaking of his shoulders.

‘The common sense of knowing when to stop talking, you dick,’ Jensen says as he grabs a pillow and launches it at him with all the strength he can muster.

Chris erupts into laughter and Jensen could swear this is the first night he doesn’t dream of Jared and wake up frustrated as hell. Although he’s not sure the nightmares about being chased by giant mouths of undetermined gender are any better.


	5. part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written in 2010 for [spn_j2_bigbang](http://spn_j2_bigbang.livejournal.com).  
> beautiful art made by [amie](http://amindaya.livejournal.com) can be found [here](https://amindaya.livejournal.com/2920.html).

**XXVII.**

Every time he walks into Jared's rero, it gets harder and harder to get undressed. He actually has to put an effort in to get relaxed, which Jensen thinks kind of defeats the point of getting a massage. He still thinks Jared's a pretty awesome guy and conversation still kind of flows freely between them, or he would like to believe he's getting pretty good at pretending it is. It's not that Jared's suddenly lost his touch – not at all, with every appointment, it seems Jared's found another way to perfect his techniques. 

But that's actually part of the problem. When he's up on Jared's table and he's got his hands all over him, his body seems to think it's Christmas and gets into the party-mood. Which is perfectly normal, Jensen tells himself, since Jared pretty much knows every inch of his body as well as his girlfriends ever did. Well, almost every inch. The part that doesn't know him is trying very hard to get introduced, though.

It's crazy. He doesn't like guys. He's never been remotely attracted to guys, ever. So the way he reacts to Jared obviously is purely because he subconsciously assumes that if Jared can make him feel this good by just rubbing his back, it must be out of this world if he's got his great, big, talented hands on his hard-on.

Just then, he takes Jensen's wrist and puts his arm above his head, holding it there, so Jared's other hand has more room to massage the soft inside of his upper arm and his left side. Jensen goes cross-eyed and he has to hold his breath, trying to keep from pressing into Jared and guiding him a little more south. He doesn't know if it's because Jared's found another particularly sensitive spot on his ribs, or the fact that he can manipulate Jensen's body so easily, pin it down without the least bit of effort, that makes him tense up, but he shifts so his forehead is resting on the table before he manages to exhale.

If Jared's ever noticed, he's never said anything about it, but today he frowns and pinches Jensen's hip softly to get his attention. 'You alright, man? You're not getting ticklish all of a sudden, right?'

Jensen clears his throat clumsily and tries to come up with a lie that Jared could actually believe. 'No, no. Don't worry about it. It's – work is a bit. Just having a hard time shutting off my brain today.'

Jared nods, but he doesn't seem entirely convinced. He moves away from Jensen's side, though, and turns his attention to his legs. Getting his thighs massaged is not helping.

After a moment, Jared speaks again. 'Listen, I know we're not like, bffs or anything, but if you wanna talk...'

He doesn't have to finish his sentence and Jensen thinks, why not? He has always felt comfortable around Jared before this and he seems like a pretty open-minded, easy-going guy. So maybe if he just throws it all out, explains that it's not like he has a crush on him or anything, but that his body's a bit confused right now, it'll be enough to clear up the tension and they can just go back to the way it was before that.

Jensen's about to take him up on his offer when there's a knock on the door and Sandy peeks in. 'Sorry,' she says, smiling brightly at both of them. 'Hi, Jensen.'

'No, that's okay,' Jared says and motions for her to get in.

It's not the first time it's happened. Sandy and Jared work different hours and with his busy schedule, she sometimes doesn't have a choice but to barge in when he's with a client. In the beginning, Jared excused himself and talked to her outside for a minute, but Jensen likes Sandy, talks to her almost as easily as he does with Jared, and it wasn't long until they included him in their conversations.

'Hey.' Jensen relaxes a bit now there's a third party in the room. 'This guy put you on his schedule yet?'

'Not even close,' Sandy says and rolls her eyes. 'I think I ruined all my chances when I slaughtered him in Halo.'

'Hey, you made your bed, you lie in it,' Jared says as he points at her, but Jensen can tell he's trying not to laugh. 'You know I have no problem doing it at home.'

'Speaking of which,' Sandy says and winces. 'I'm about done here and I just noticed I forgot my keys in the apartment when I went back for lunch. Mind if I take yours?'

'Sure, you know my locker-combo,' Jared says. 'You going out later?'

'Not that I know of. I'll be home to let you in. Thanks,' she says, already turning back to the door to leave. But then she stops and looks back. 'Oh, I almost forgot. Misha left another message on the machine, asking you out again. You know, if you're really not interested, you shouldn't let it drag on like this.'

Jensen lifts his head when he hears it and looks from Sandy to Jared and back with raised eyebrows. It's not that he and Jared talk a lot about their relationships, like Jared said, they've mostly talked about superficial stuff, but he thinks he might've mentioned Danneel every once in a while. He hasn't heard about Jared's girls ever since he mentioned playing Guitar Hero with one, so he's just assumed he hasn't had dates. It's weird to realize he did. 

Jared sighs and his hands, that are just resting on Jensen's back, tense up ever so slightly. 'No, it's not that I'm entirely not interested,' he says hesitantly and Jensen cranes his neck to look at him. It's the first time Jensen's ever seen him so uncomfortable and squirmy, avoiding everyone's eyes. 'It's just that – you know.'

'Yeah. I know.' Sandy nods as she opens the door. 'But Misha's a good guy, Jared. I just don't think you're being very fair to him, that's all.'

She's already left for a couple of minutes by the time it dawns on Jensen that Misha apparently is a man, and he can't quite stop himself from saying, 'Wait. _Guy_?'

'Oh, right,' Jared says, like he was hoping to get away with it without Jensen noticing. His voice is shaky, as if he's nervous, and he stops massaging Jensen entirely, taking a step back. In spite of the sheer size of him, Jared actually looks small. 'I'm-'

'You're gay?' Jensen bites out, sitting up. He's pretty sure his time's up anyway. He doesn't mean to sound as angry as he does, he's just shocked. He realizes they haven't had weekly heart-to-hearts and it's not like he told Jared the complete truth about Danneel, but it's weird to think he doesn't know Jared as well as he thought. 'What about all the girls you were dating?'

Jared doesn't speak for a moment, still avoiding his eyes. 'Well. I just said I was dating,' he says quietly. 'You assumed they were girls. I didn't-'

'Why didn't you tell me?' Jensen interrupts him, still sounding gruff. 

'I didn't realize I was supposed to. It's not exactly something you casually drop in a conversation, Jensen,' Jared answers, and while his voice isn't raised exactly, it's louder than Jensen's ever heard it. His shoulders are tense, arms held out rigidly beside him, as if somehow, he's expecting this to come to blows. 'I'm not wrong for not introducing myself to people as Jared Who Takes It Up The Ass. It's wrong of people to automatically think I don't.'

Jensen flinches at Jared's words, not just because they are more crude than he's used to of him and he somehow didn't think him capable of it, but also because – well. That was a very graphic description and Jensen's downstairs brain more than gets the picture.

Jared, however, misinterprets Jensen's reaction completely and sighs deeply, letting his shoulders sag. He turns away from him, starts cleaning up the lotions and towels, and asks, 'Is this gonna be a problem?'

'What? No,' Jensen answers, without thinking. 'I'm just- I'm surprised, that's all.'

'Okay,' Jared says with a mirthless smile, craning his neck as if to look at Jensen, but his eyes remain firmly fixed on the bottles in front of him. 

For a moment or two, Jensen doesn't know what to do or say, so he just stays up on the massage table with a towel clutched to his chest as if it was a shield. In the end, though, he realizes Jared has no intention of speaking to him anymore, so he finally gets up to get dressed and leave. 

Fine, so he didn't handle this one well. He doesn't even know why it upsets him that Jared didn't tell him he was into guys – and he has to assume it's because he didn't _tell_ him he is gay, not because he _is_ gay, because that would be pretty lame of him, considering Jared and his massive hands are making him doubt his own sexuality.

He takes one more look at Jared when he's already by the door. He's still rearranging stuff that's already neatly ordered, his face not betraying a single emotion, like a mask. It's weird seeing him like that, Jensen didn't think Jared could hide anything and what's more, he doesn't want Jared to hide anything, not from him. He nearly speaks then, he opens his mouth and everything, but then he thinks that he's probably only going to make it worse now, whatever he says. So he just tightens his hold on the doorknob and leaves.

**XXVIII.**

When Jared asked if it was gonna be a problem, it hadn't even occurred to Jensen that it might be. He'd thought it was a weird question, really. But now that he has time to think about what this actually means, well. It's not helping Jensen's predicament.

First of all, he's still kind of pissed that Jared never told him, never even tried to correct him when he kept asking about girlfriends. He realizes he probably has no right to be angry about that, but it really doesn't sit well with him that - while he was half-naked and at Jared's mercy on that table, and being more honest than he'd probably been with any other human being in the last year - Jared kept him completely in the dark. Okay, Jensen left out a couple of details here and there, maybe, but not like that. He didn't purposely keep things from Jared.

Except for the fact that he doesn't have a life, maybe. But it's not the same.

There's a nagging voice in the back of his head that says that if the defeat he could hear in Jared's voice is anything to go by, he probably had a good reason to keep quiet about it – that it probably wasn't the first time someone reacted like he had. And that possibly annoys Jensen even more, because he wouldn't have gotten angry if Jared told him about all this. And why the hell would he ever think he'd judge someone for being gay? What reason did he ever give him to lump him in with that sort of people? He thought Jared knew him better than that. Or he had hoped, maybe.

Secondly, and that is much more disturbing to Jensen, he keeps thinking about the fact that Jared. Is. Gay. 

Just imagining what those hands could do was bizarre enough to begin with. Thinking that whatever plays out in his fantasies could potentially happen – that it's pretty much normal as far as Jared's sex life is concerned – is absolutely disastrous. 

He refuses to get into it, though. Christ, his body should know the difference between sex and just a massage, but it appears that somehow, it missed class that day. So Jensen decides that he will make it understand – he'll condition it: relaxation is on certain days at fixed hours, orgasms are on and at others and both things are entirely unrelated, completely separated. So whenever his body gets wound up and overexcited because of Jared and his fucking gargantuan hands, he will ignore it until he manages to meet up with Danneel. Which is really unfortunate, since she's got a life of her own, things to do and places to be, and it really wouldn't be fair of him to have blown her off as often as he has, but still expect her to be at his beck and call.

He knows it won't be easy. It's not easy going back to Sandover to face Jared, either. 

When he gets into his rero, he's not even thinking about taking his clothes off yet, because he's not even sure Jared will still want to work on him. God, he's _nervous_ , like he's going on a date.

Jared doesn't seem entirely comfortable either. He's leaning back against the hutch at the other end of the room with the stereo player on it. His arms are crossed over his chest protectively, feet closely together, and the look he's giving Jensen tells him the guy is actually _scared_.

They stare at each other for a moment, in complete silence. It makes Jensen want to cringe and tell him everything, but he's not entirely sure he can explain properly what's going on with him. The moment he's managed to gather the courage to do it, though, Jared seems to have made up his mind too and speaks first.

'You can put your clothes on the chair by the door, and when you're done, just hop up on my table,' he says. He's still avoiding Jensen's eyes, but he does flash him a tiny smile and his voice is cheerful as ever. It's almost like - 

Like they're talking for the first time. This is Jared's friendly, impersonal voice. The one that makes you think he's an open, friendly,” no secrets” kind of guy. It's the voice he reserves for new clients and Jensen's blind with rage for a split second, before he realizes that he's the one who made the mess and it's only right that he should clean it up.

'Jared, listen,' Jensen says awkwardly. He has no idea what he's going to say. 'I – er. I'm. I didn't mean to react the way I did, last time. I've got no problems whatsoever with you being gay. Or anybody, for that matter.'

When he sees Jared wants to interrupt, undoubtedly to brush aside the entire thing, he continues quickly. 'No, I mean it, man. It's not my place to judge, at all, trust me. I've got gay friends too, you know, and they're awesome people.'

That really did not come out right. Jared shifts clumsily and keeps his arms crossed tightly, but he does meet his eyes for the first time and Jensen thinks that's something, at least. 'Look, as long as you're happy, no one that cares about you is going to trip over the gender you're happy with, is what I'm trying to say. I guess I was just surprised you didn't tell me.'

God, he's resorting to quoting Chris now, he must be really fucking desperate – but it works, because Jared's face clears. Not entirely, but enough to tell Jensen he's relieved and happy with what he's heard. He flashes him a genuine smile, letting the tension flow out of his shoulders and says, 'Thanks, man. It means a lot. Now get on up here and let me get my hands on you.'

Jensen smiles back and feels his stomach deflate, feels the knot in his gut untie and all the other cliché things they say about moments like these. They're all true.

It seems as if Jared's trying his best to make up for what happened as well, as if it's his fault that Jensen's filter turns off when he's around Jared, or as if he's grateful Jensen's finally shown he's got some common sense in him after all, because it's the best damn massage he's ever given him. He takes his time, uses every minute to the fullest to get Jensen's entire body to melt into the massage table. 

Damn. He wishes Jared wasn't gay.

*

It's a good thing he still has Danneel. He's pretty sure he would've exploded by now if he hadn't, or his arm would have fallen off.

And there's only so much relief he can give himself. In fact, it makes him even more frustrated, because every time he comes down from his high, it feels like the coldest shower in the world to realize that he's all alone in his big bed – or even worse, his near-sterile bathroom – listening to his own loud panting in an otherwise completely silent house. There are no warm hands to tease the adrenaline from under his skin, there is no one to put a head on his chest or to crack a silly joke. No one to share this with and it's the most miserable he's ever felt, so Jensen doesn't want to put himself through that any more than necessary. (And God, that's something he _never_ thought he'd think about getting off.)

Which results in him slacking off at work, taking delegating to a whole new level, because he simply cannot concentrate on anything for longer than an hour. He takes every chance he gets to get some distraction and making sure that Vaughan's ads are just a bit more square and a bit less orange or whatever, is not distracting at all. It's _boring_ and boring causes his mind to wander, so he needs something that's just as exciting as what Jared does to his body. However, going to watch Chris and Steve perform and getting drunk isn't much better either, because it only makes him hornier.

He realizes that he has to snap out of this, and fast, because his designers are starting to look at him funny and Morgan has made perfectly clear that he will not tolerate Jensen slacking off. So when he answers his phone and Jared greets him enthusiastically, he already knows he can't keep doing this.

'There's this older woman that canceled her appointment at nine,' he says easily. 'You coming?'

'Jared,' he says uncomfortably, 'I don't know. I don't think I can make it this time. Work is quite hectic.'

'Oh.' Jensen can almost hear Jared's face fall. 'No, I get it. Work comes first. So, I'll - next time then.'

'Yeah, next time,' Jensen echoes before he hangs up and slams his head down on his desk, groaning.

'You know, I'm pretty sure that masseur will see you either way,' a voice says from the door. 'You don't actually have to have a headache.'

He looks up and sees Danneel, leaning causally in the door frame. He squints at her, wondering if he asked to meet her and forgot all about it, but he smiles at her anyway. 

'Actually, I just canceled my appointment with him,' Jensen tells her, gesturing for her to come in and take a seat. 'Too busy.'

'Really?' Danneel eyes him suspiciously. He hasn't told her what's going on, but she's quick to pick up on things and she knows him almost as well as his mother does. She knows that all the times he asked to see her and didn't show didn't have anything to do with files he forgot to finish and he's well aware he might have talked about Jared a bit too often not to draw attention to it. 

He doesn't think she actually suspects that he's asking to meet up with her so often lately _because of_ Jared, but even if she did, she wouldn't call him on it. They're not together anymore and she doesn't want to meddle in his personal life, even if she still cares for him a great deal.

As he does for her, obviously. 

'Too busy to celebrate some really good news?' she asks cheerfully.

'You're not pregnant, are you?' Jensen asks.

'What are you, insane?' Danneel nearly yells. 'No, I just got a call from my agent. They want me to go to Milan for a fashion show.'

He sees the excitement in her face and gets up immediately to hug her. 'Danneel, that's great,' he says, and he really genuinely is happy for her. 'How long will you be gone?'

'Three weeks, at least, but it'll probably be longer. I'm leaving day after tomorrow,' she says, bouncing from foot to foot. 'I get to work for a couple of really great designers, Jensen. This is like a dream come true. So?'

'You know I'm never too busy to celebrate that,' he tells her and grabs his phone immediately to send out texts to Chris and the others, asking them to meet up in the bar in a couple of hours. 'Let's go grab something to eat and we'll see where the night ends.'

**XXIX.**

The night doesn't end early, that's for sure. After he buys Danneel a three-course dinner, they end up in the bar on what's apparently karaoke-night. Tom is already up on stage raping a Bon Jovi-song when they get in and Steve's trying to put down another round of drinks on a table full of empty glasses.

'What's all this? Is there a ban on alcohol starting tomorrow?' Jensen asks when he takes a seat, pulling Danneel down on his lap. 

'We have to properly celebrate Danneel going away, don't we?' Chris says happily, slapping a hand down on his shoulder.

Jensen throws him an angry look, but she just smiles sweetly at him, takes his beer from under his nose and downs it completely. 'Exactly, big boy,' she says, imitating Chris's accent. 'So why don't you get on over to the bar and get us a couple more drinks?'

For a moment, Jensen thinks Chris is gonna murder her. But then he slaps his knee and smiles again. 'You got it, ma'am.'

Danneel laughs loudly as he walks away and turns to whisper in Jensen's ear, 'Man, he really hates me, doesn't he?'

'Well, if he didn't before,' Jensen answers, laughing too, 'he certainly does now.'

'Hey, Jensen,' Steve says, nudging him with an elbow. 'Who's that guy? You think Mike wasn't kidding about crushing on men?'

'What?' Jensen frowns and follows Steve's eyes towards the entrance. 'Who -'

He stops talking mid-sentence, though, because towering behind Mike is Jared. He's looking a bit out of place and he's smiling shyly, as if he knows it too. He's even more impressive now, in his own clothes, than in the Sandover-scrubs. He's wearing an old pair of jeans, clearly worn up to perfect fit, and a dark blue plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves that emphasize how massive and muscular his arms are. Jensen's mouth goes a little dry as he takes him in from top to bottom.

'Oh, I hope it was a joke,' Danneel says, staring at him too. 'That guy is hot.'

Mike's found them by now and is guiding Jared towards their table. Jensen gets up quickly and without warning, so Danneel kind of has to jump off clumsily.

Jared's laughing at something Mike's telling him, but when his eyes land on Jensen, his face falls completely.

'Jared,' Jensen says lamely. He feels like he's just been caught cheating. 'What are you doing here?'

'I, er,' Jared tells him and glances awkwardly at everyone. 'Mike said he was meeting friends for drinks and I was off early, so.'

It doesn't sound like he's accusing him of anything, but Jensen swallows and looks at the floor anyway. 'Yeah, I -'

'I didn't know you were going to be here,' he adds with a shrug, as if he's the one who should be apologizing.

'Me neither,' Jensen says quickly. 'I mean, I wasn't planning on coming. I really do have work, but -'

'It's my fault,' Danneel interrupts, 'I'm entirely too successful in everything I do and I needed someone to celebrate that with. It took a lot of convincing, though. I take it you're the infamous Jared?'

'I wouldn't know about infamous,' Jared says. He sounds just as jovial and friendly as ever, but Jensen can tell he's got his guard up.

'Coming from her, that's a compliment,' Mike says dryly and offers Jared a beer. 'She is one tough cookie. Jensen obviously is the girl in their relationship.'

Jensen feels his stomach drop when he hears, he wants to say something about it, deny that there's any sort of relationship whatsoever, but why should he, really? He's not crushing on Jared, it's just something physical and it's never going to happen anyway. Danneel can perfectly satisfy him and Jared was dating someone else, so it's doesn't matter.

Jared's eyes dart quickly from her to Jensen and back before he offers her a hand, that Danneel - being Danneel - completely ignores and she gives him a short hug instead. Which Jensen takes as his cue to finally introduce her. 'The equally infamous Danneel,' he says and tries to smile. 'She's leaving for Milan in a couple of days, to do fashion shows.'

'Congratulations!' Jared says, genuinely happy, as if he's known her for years. 'Me and my friend Sandy went backpacking through Europe right after high school, we spent a couple of days in Milan. It's a great city.'

'Really? Tell me all about it,' Danneel says enthusiastically and drags him off.

*

Jensen's been hauled up on stage twice by the time he finds them again and first thing that happens is that Danneel slaps him hard on the arm.

'You never told me this guy was from the south too,' she scolds him.

'You're from Louisiana?' Jensen asks, surprised.

'Texas, actually,' Jared answers. He's looking a lot more relaxed, like the Jared Jensen knows. 'San Antonio, born and bred.'

'Get out,' Jensen says. 'I'm from Dallas.'

'Danneel just told me,' Jared says, laughing. 'How did we manage to miss that?'

'I don't know.' It does puzzle Jensen, because when he hears Jared speak now, there's no missing the slow drawl in his vowels. Or maybe that's just because of the alcohol. 'Staying strictly business, I suppose.'

'Maybe you should remedy that,' Danneel says, as she lifts her bottle of beer in a toast, and winks at Jensen, before she turns and leaves.

'She's something else,' Jared says as they both look after her.

At that moment, Jensen almost tells Jared that they're not a couple, that he might actually not be as straight as he's made Jared think either, but something inside him still stops him. He just can't do it, so he nods and says, 'That she is.'

*

Turns out that getting to know Jared better is something Jensen should never have done at all. It seems that the more he finds out about the guy, the more he's convinced there's absolutely nothing wrong with him. And on top of that, they have an absurd amount of things in common: both middle child with an older brother and younger sister, both were big on sports in high school but had to stop because of an injury, they like the same music, the same food, the same games.

He looks forward to his appointments with Jared, he gets itchy and restless when he knows he has four more days to wait until he can get another massage. But at the same time, he dreads going, is on the verge of canceling every single time. He gets frustrated and angry, he's distracted and he's messing up at work.

It's even worse now Danneel's not around to help him take his mind off things. He feels like he's a ticking time bomb, the way he's walking around. He's tried hitting on a couple of other girls when he's in the bar with Chris and the others, but his attempts fall flat and he doesn't even care. As far as he can see, there's not a single interesting person in the room. The moment he thinks he might have found someone, he keeps comparing them to Jared and Danneel and they lose all potential.

Which is why, after giving long and hard thought to it, he gets up his courage and walks into Sandover and tries greeting Katie with a smile.

Or he would if she'd at least look up at him.

'Yeah?' she says, eyes fixed on her computer screen. She's still chewing as much gum as ever, only it's bright pink now, or maybe that's actually her lipstick.

'I, er,' Jensen says, hesitating for a moment. He's still not sure he really wants to do this. In fact, he's fairly certain he doesn't want to, but he needs to get a grip, get back on track and that's never going to happen if he keeps this up. 'I wanted to switch masseurs.'

'Oh good, something new,' she says, still tapping away on her keyboard. Jensen gets the impression she's completely faking it, though, because he thinks he might have just detected the beat to We Will Rock You in her typing. 'Jared's all booked up, there's a waiting list. It's long.'

'Yeah, I know,' he says. 'I'm with Jared now.'

Katie drops both hands at once, she even stops chewing and looks straight at him for probably the first time since he's started coming here. 'You what?'

'I'm with Jared,' he says again. 'And I want to switch.'

'To another masseur?' She says it as if she'd find it more likely if he'd meant he wanted to switch gender instead.

'Does Genevieve have an opening?' he asks, trying to peer over the counter into the diary. He knows it's not ideal. Best for him would be to stop coming at all, but he really doesn't want that. He's afraid his headaches will return the moment he does. He also can't deny that there's a part of him that hopes to get back with Jared, once he gets control of his life again. It's unlikely that someone will drop out again and even more unlikely that Jared will bump him up again after this. But he can wait a year or two, maybe.

'This is a joke, right?' She narrows her eyes at him, but she seems to get he's completely serious and opens a file on her computer. 'Your name.'

'Ackles,' he says.

Katie directs her look at him again, she looks furious. Jensen thinks she might snap her pencil in half, the way she's holding it in her hands, knuckles white and fingertips red. 'Yeah, I got someone for you,' she spits. 'Starting next week, you're with Jim.'

'Jim,' Jensen echoes. He feels defeated and terrible. He hasn't even told Jared anything about this. Next time he calls, he'll explain everything. He will.

**XXX.**

Except Jared doesn't call and when Jensen goes in for what should be his last appointment with him, Katie, somewhat proudly, says that he must have remembered wrong and that Jim is waiting for him.

Jim, it turns out, looks like a little block of cement - rectangular shoulders and a graying beard, hair slicked back in an attempt to look neat – and, frankly, pretty ridiculous in those scrubs. He seems the type of guy that would feel much more comfortable driving a truck or working on cars, not people. 

He is a genuinely nice guy, though. He smiles at Jensen and puts his hands on his hips when he takes him in. 'So you're the squirt who swapped Jared for me,' he says, eyebrows raised, and it makes Jensen cringe to be reminded of it. 'You're not what I expected.'

'You expected someone a bit more -' Jensen prompts, still standing by the door awkwardly.

'Listen, kid, I'll be honest with you,' Jim says, leaning his head slightly to the right, as if he feels for him. 'No one in their right mind wants off Jared's list. And they certainly don't come to me after.'

'Actually,' Jensen says, rubbing a hand over his neck, feeling uncomfortable. Is it even possible that his headache's back already? 'Katie put me down with you.'

'Ah, well,' Jim says with a grin, as if that explains everything. 'Katie don't like you very much.'

'I noticed.' Jensen sighs, shoulders sagging dejectedly.

'That's okay,' Jim says as he turns to the massage table and spreads a towel over it. 'She don't like me very much either. Or anyone else on the planet, come to think of it.'

Jensen tries to smile at that, but he can't even bother to fake it properly. 'So. Should I be worried?'

'Worried?' Jim echoes and laughs heartily. It sounds a bit like panting and coughing and Jensen gets the impression he doesn't really do it all that often. 'Son. You might have noticed I'm a bit older than Jared. My college days are long gone, you know, so I'm afraid I'm not as refined as he is. I got my share of loyal customers, not saying I don't, but most of 'em are probably around your daddy's age.'

'So you expected someone older?' Jensen asks, still not really sure what the guy was trying to say.

'I expected someone insane, is what I did,' Jim says and laughs again. 'I told you, no one stops seeing Jared. And you don't particularly strike me as off in the head, but I've been wrong before. When Jared first came here, I said he wouldn't last a day.'

Jensen really smiles at that. He kind of likes Jim, in a “crazy uncle”-kind of way. He massages like a crazy uncle would, too, with a lot of force and weight put into it and very little attention for absolute enjoyment or refinement, like he's about to take Jensen by the scruff and give him a noogie. He presses down hard on the places that hurt and makes them hurt harder as he keeps rubbing them relentlessly.

He doesn't speak either. Jensen tries to engage him in conversation a couple of times, but it's useless. He merely grunts in reply and pushes him back down. Which is pretty awkward, considering Jared didn't really understand what “shutting up” was. So now he's got nothing to distract him from the thumbs that are almost digging into his muscles. Jim is a butcher disguised as masseur, Jensen is absolutely sure he is. 

Although he has to admit, the next day, there's almost nothing of the pain left and he feels pretty good, actually. His shoulders feel relaxed and loose, which is the reason he goes to Sandover in the first place, so he does consider this a victory. He thinks he might keep this Jim-fellow.

*

It still surprises Jensen every time he's down on the table to have Jim's hands on him, not Jared's. It's weird to feel how his skin is calloused and hard, even in spite of the liberal quantities of lotion he uses. He still can't get used to the fact that there is little to no communication between them, and certainly nothing more personal than, 'ooh, that's a tough spot right there. You been working in front of a computer, boy?' It's not really uncomfortable anymore, he does sense somehow that Jim actually likes him and that he's giving him the softer treatment. And there's certainly no way his subconscious would ever consider it could get sexual gratification out of this, so he's at least somewhat less frustrated than he used to be.

Which is why he's still with Jim, four weeks later. Granted, it still hurts a bit, especially since Jim seems to be dead set on massaging his muscles into a pulp so they can't actually get tense anymore. But it works. He's got no headaches, so he'll live with the soreness and the silence. He's a big boy, he can take it.

And he only meets up with Jim once a week for one hour, so with Danneel out of the country and Jared out of the picture, he's got a lot of time to get his business straight. Which he really needed to do, because man, his files are in a much worse state than he'd thought and Morgan has been giving him the stink eye over it.

So he gets his act together and he manages his projects like no one has ever seen. He's on top of everything again in no time and it feels good. Yeah, he's working those long hours again, pretty much, but he's not hurting anymore. 

Not physically.

**XXXI.**

All in all, this whole thing is working out pretty well, Jensen thinks. He's not unhappy, per se, and he's not completely sucking at his job lately. He still doesn't really get how the whole “managing people”-thing works, but he figures that with a little bit of practice, he might get there. If he focuses real hard and works on it all he can. He does it so much that some days, he actually forgets about Jim or getting a massage altogether. He manages to forget about Jared, sometimes, too.

Which is why he totally did not expect to bump into him at Sandover, the next week. He's in the middle of a conversation with Katie (and she's _laughing_ , Jensen thinks the world is gonna end) when he catches Jensen's eye and his face falls immediately. He just stares at him for a good ten seconds and Jensen's frozen on the spot, like a deer in headlights. He stops breathing even, as if that might make Jared glance over him like he's not there.

It doesn't work. Jared shakes his head slightly, as if he's trying to shake himself out of the same stupor Jensen's in and makes a move towards him. Jensen does the first thing that comes to mind and dives into Jim's rero almost like he's dodging a bullet.

And he might have been, if the adrenaline coursing through his body is anything to go by.

'You okay, boy?' Jim asks with a cocked eyebrow. 'You look a bit spooked.'

'No, I'm,' Jensen says, still staring at the door. There's a part of him that just really wants Jared to burst in and talk to him, but he dismisses the thought as quickly as he can. 'I'm fine. Peachy.'

But Jensen's everything but peachy, and Jim can feel it too, if the sheer force he's putting into the massage is anything to go by. He just can't relax, cannot shake the look on Jared's face when he saw Jensen. He looked so disappointed, it kind of startled him. And it's not like he even knows why Jared's disappointed. Sure, he didn't handle everything entirely correctly, but Jared didn't call either. He didn't ask what happened, so it's not like he felt the loss of Jensen's companionship too keenly.

Why would he, anyway?

Nope. Jensen's just going to forget about the entire thing. He'll keep calm and carry on.

*

Four hours later, though, Jensen feels as if the entire universe is out to get him, because he gets an email from Danneel that's basically a detailed recount of everything she's seen, done and eaten since she's gotten to Milan. With her new boyfriend, Stan the photographer. ( _How cliché, I know!_ )

He supposes it's not a surprise she's finally found someone else. That it's, in fact, a miracle she didn't find someone sooner. Because she's beautiful, inside and out, and every guy in a five mile radius of her instantly starts tripping all over himself in ridiculous attempts to impress her. He couldn't have expected her to stay alone forever, or to stay with him just for sex, forever.

And, you know, it's not that he doesn't want her to be happy or that he doesn't want to know about it. He really does want her to find someone who won't fail where he did, who could love her better. She's one of his best friends and her happiness means the world to him.

Only she couldn't have picked a worse time, because all he can think about right now, is that not only did he lose Jared, he lost Danneel, as well.

*

Which is why he's standing in the bar with Chris, Steve, Tom and Mike, after work and not paying any attention to a word they're saying. Which is why he's on his third beer in fifteen minutes while the others are still nursing their first. Which is why he, when Chris asks him something he hasn't heard and claps a hand down on his shoulder, shoots him an irritated look and says, 'What?''

'Alright,' Chris says, clearing his throat and holding up his hands. 'What's with you today?'

'With me?' Jensen parrots, annoyed.

'Yeah,' Mike chimes in happily. God, Jensen's absolutely convinced Mike is alive just to piss him off. 'You've been grouchy all day, mister Sourpuss. What happened, Jared cut you off?'

At the mere mention of Jared's name, Jensen's heart skips a beat and that - if possible – makes him even angrier. 'Shut up.'

'You know, he's been looking kinda sad too, lately,' Mike says, completely ignoring the warning glances everyone is shooting him. They're not even trying to be stealthy about it. 'Trouble in paradise?'

'Seriously, Mike,' Jensen says again, pushing down the impulse to ask what he means by Jared looking sad. 'Can it.'

'I thought you weren't with Jared anymore?' Steve says, looking puzzled. Jensen loves the guy, but right now, he could cheerfully murder him. 'That's what Genevieve told me.'

'Oh, he totally did cut you off,' Mike says with glee.

'No,' Jensen grunts, without looking up. 'Jared only worked me in when he had time. He's outta time now.'

'Really?' Chris asks skeptically, eyebrows raised. 'It didn't seem like that.'

'Who're you with now?' Tom asks, trying to at least steer the topic away from Jared, as he can tell it's not something Jensen's comfortable discussing.

'I'm with this older guy called Jim.'

'Jim?' Mike blurts, almost choking on his beer. 'That's gross. Why would you do that?'

'Because no one else had the time, alright?' Jensen nearly yells. He slams down his bottle onto the bar, grabs his jacket off one of the stools and takes off. 'Jesus Christ.'

He skilfully ignores Chris's knowing look, and later that night, his calls too.

**XXXII.**

'I suck, momma,' Jensen sighs into the receiver, and winces the moment he's spoken, because he knows what's going to follow now.

'At phone calls you certainly do, Jensen Ross,' Donna says from the other end of the line, clearly annoyed. 'And mind your language. I honestly, I sometimes don't know why I still try.'

'I'm sorry,' he says quietly and something in his voice must've struck her because his mother's quiet for a moment.

'What's wrong, darling?' she asks eventually.

'Everything,' Jensen says melodramatically. He doesn't even care.

'Come now, Jensen, I'm sure that's not true,' she says. 'Start from the beginning.'

'It's a lot,' Jensen says hesitantly. He's lived through the entire thing, has gone over it in his mind more times than it deserved, probably. He doesn't really feel like telling the whole story. He just wants a bit of comfort, that's all.

'Well, your daddy's out of the house for the night and your sister is havin' a friend over, so for once, I actually got the time to listen,' Donna says.

'Really? Where's dad gone to?' he tries, wanting to distract his mother.

'Off to some fancy car show or other with your uncle Bill and your brother,' she tells him, but before Jensen gets to ask more about it, she adds, 'And don't try to divert the subject, Jensen. You know that doesn't work on me.'

God, does he know.

'Go on then,' she urges him again when he doesn't immediately speak.

'I don't know where to start,' Jensen says honestly. He sighs as he drops himself into his couch and squirms. He's had the thing for five years and it's still uncomfortable to sit in. 'You remember that fight I had at work, a while back?'

'Very much. Did you apologize to that young man?'

'Momma, really?' Jensen says, exasperated.

'Alright.'

'Well. After, the guys said I should relax a bit and they sent me to a spa.' He pauses for another moment, as this is where he expects his mother to interrupt, but when she doesn't, he says, 'For a massage?'

'Don't be silly, Jensen,' she nearly yells. 'I know that. So I take it you actually went?'

'Yeah,' he says and he surprises himself a little when a smile appears on his face at the thought of Jared.

'Oh, dear,' Donna says apprehensively. 'How did that go?'

'It was weird, at first,' he admits, but he can't help the defensive tone that creeps into his voice. 'It got better.'

'Really? His mother sounds so surprised, Jensen nearly laughs.

'Yes, really,' he says. 'I managed to get in with a really good masseur. He is amazing, momma, and not just at massaging. You'd like him, I think. He's a really cool guy, around my age. He's easy to be around. And he's a Texas-boy, too.'

'And what's this boy's name?' she asks. She sounds very curious, all of a sudden. 'I'm not used to you being so full of praise about anyone.'

'What are you talking about?' he asks, taken aback. He didn't think that what he'd said was anything out of the ordinary. He was just describing Jared, exactly as he is. Donna seems to have no intentions of answering his question, so he just says, 'Jared. He's called Jared.'

'He sounds like a fine young man,' she tells him. 'Must be if you speak so highly about him.'

'He is,' Jensen confirms, still confused.

'So what's the problem then?'

Jensen's face flushes suddenly. Oh God. He can't tell his mother about this. What was he thinking?

'I – er. He just. He was great to hang with, you know?' he says lamely, feeling it doesn't even half cover it. 'So I kind of, I lost track of things. Of work and I got myself into trouble there. Only way I could think of getting back in the game was to – to stop hanging.'

'You stopped going to the spa? I don't think I understand, darling,' his mother says.

'No, I switched masseurs,' Jensen corrects her. It still feels like treason.

'And what did Jared say about that?'

'Well. I – I didn't actually tell him.' Jensen winces. God, he's such a coward sometimes.

'So you mean to say you just quit him like that?' she says, voice high in surprise. 'That poor boy.'

'I know, momma. I know. I just didn't know how to tell him.' He sighs. 'I was scared, I guess.'

'So that's been what's bothering you?' Jensen can't entirely grasp all the different meanings to the way his mother asks the question. He thinks she might not see it as a problem at all, but at the same time, she sounds like she already knows how to solve it. Which puzzles him, because he has no idea how to go about it.

'Not just that,' he says after a moment. 'Danneel sent me an email from Milan.'

'Oh, she's still in Europe?' Donna asks happily. Danneel and his mother always got along well. 'That's good for her.'

'Yeah, she's doing real good. She met someone,' Jensen says. 'It's one of the photographers she's working with.'

'Darling.' There's that note of pity again. And she speaks so carefully to him, like he's going to break if she doesn't pay attention, it makes Jensen roll his eyes. 'Were you still hoping to fix things with her?'

'No. God, no. We tried it every which way we could. It just, it wouldn't work. But it's weird to think-'

_I won't be sleeping with her again?_ That can't be right, saying that to your mother.

'- that it's really over. I understand,' his mother supplies helpfully. 

'I don't want to, but I keep thinking about it,' he admits, wanting to hit himself for the words pouring from his mouth, but he can't stop them. It's the truth. 'I just can't get on top of work, you know? I just can't seem to get the hang of it again.'

'But you will, honey, it'll come back.'

'I don't think it will, momma,' he says with a sigh, rubbing his eyes as he does so. 'I should never have gone to see Jared, then none of this would have ever happened. But he's so good. He made sure I finally got rid of that headache I've had forever. He's like a miracle worker.'

Jensen nearly snorts when he realizes what he's just said. And to think he accused Mike of exaggerating when he first told him about Jared.

'Well, that is quite a pickle you got yourself into, there,' she admits after a moment of silence. 'But it's not that bad. You just got to pick up the pieces and pull yourself back together.'

'I know, momma,' he says with a sigh. 'It's just hard. I feel like I'm failing at everything.'

'It is always gonna be hard, darling,' Donna tells him gently. 'If it was easy, being happy wouldn't really mean as much as it does, now would it? It's an accomplishment, you gotta work on it every day, but if there's anyone that can do it, I know it's you.'

It feels like a scripted pep-talk and like it should add to the pressure he's already feeling, but somehow, his mother avoids all those traps when she holds speeches like this. It kind of makes him think that, as long as she hasn't lost faith in him, he might actually be able to do it.

So he smiles at the phone and he's kind of sad she can't see it. He really has to drive up there sometime soon. 'Thanks, momma.'

'That's what moms are for, isn't it?' she says cheerfully. But Jensen can hear some doubt creep into her voice when she asks, 'Jensen, why does this Jared get to you so much? Is there something you need to tell me?'

'No! God.' Jensen groans. 'Why does everyone keep asking me that?'

'Because clearly you're not doing a good job of taking care of yourself. You have to learn to see when you need or want something. Or when you don't. We won't always be around to tell you.'

'What?' he asks, confused. 'Is that a riddle?'

'I suppose it still is to you,' Donna says in that tone of voice that says she's got infinitely more experience than he does and it pisses him off. 'It's something you'll have to figure out on your own, son.'

'Great,' he grunts.

'I heard that,' his mother says instantly from the other side of the line. 'Manners, Jensen Ross.'

He has to smile at that, even if he doesn't want to. They can both try to change each other for as long and as often as they like (and they do try with frightening frequency), it'll never work. 'Goodnight, momma,' he says fondly.

'Goodnight, son,' she says and he can hear the warmth in her voice. 'You take care of yourself. Call me back soon.'

'I will, momma,' he confirms. 'I will.'

The moment he's off the phone, he slams his head into his fridge and groans, before finally heading to bed.

**XXXIII.**

'So, Jim,' Jensen starts as he walks into rero nine, fingers working on the buttons of his shirt, 'what have you got for me today? Let's get this show on the road.'

He's in a pretty good mood. He's only got one more case to finish up on today and then he's completely done with catching up on work. He's pretty sure he'll be able to do that tonight if he times it right, but that means he hasn't got a minute to spare, not even here.

He's about to take his shirt off when he notices Jim still hasn't answered. He turns around to look at him and Jensen thinks he might die. Because it's not Jim that's standing by the massage table. It's Jared and he's staring at Jensen as if he's never seen another human being before, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, entirely at a loss for words.

Jensen thinks he probably has the exact same look on his face.

Jared's the first to find his voice again, even if his expression doesn't really change. 'Er – Jim's, Jim's in five. Not – this is me.'

Jensen can see that, he just doesn't understand _why_. 'In five? But the - the sheet,' he says lamely and points to where he thinks the reception might be.

Jared blinks, as if he doesn't really get what Jensen's trying to say, but then it appears to dawn on him. 'Right.' He shakes his head and finally manages the smile Jensen's gotten so used to over the last half year. 'We had to – we changed. Someone got in couple hours back. I guess they didn't replace it.'

'Well, they ought to,' Jensen snaps, faster and angrier than he means to. He just doesn't really know what to do. He didn't expect to see Jared, didn't expect to talk to him so he's not prepared, didn't get to put his walls up on time.

'I'll let 'em know,' Jared says, holding up his hands as if he's surrendering. 

They're quiet for another moment and it's so awkward, both of them glancing at all corners of the room as long as it means they don't have to look at each other. Jensen realizes he's still got his shirt open and he feels oddly naked, all of a sudden. He buttons it up hastily and wrong, but he can't be bothered doing it right.

It kind of hurts, the way he has absolutely no idea what to say to Jared or how to act, when not too long ago, Jared was the only person around whom that was never an issue. He did feel another way when he was in the same room with him, though, and Jensen doesn't know if he's glad or not when he notices there still are constants in life, after all. He'd still like nothing better than to crawl onto Jared's table and let him have his way with him, just let his hands run all over his body. God, his hands are just - 

Jensen's been staring at them for a good ten seconds, mouth gone dry at the thought, when Jared clears his throat and tries to pick up the conversation again. 'Jensen, look. What happened, man? I thought -' He stops talking mid-sentence and sighs. He's looking at him with those big, sad puppy eyes. Jensen can't take it. 'What did I do wrong?'

'Wrong?' Jensen echoes without thinking. Jared didn't do _anything_ wrong, that's exactly the problem. It's Jensen who can't stop thinking about him, Jensen who put his work – and just about everything else - on hold because Jared never does anything wrong. It's Jensen who's let this go way too far. Jensen who's wrong.

And he's pretty sure that when he speaks again, all of that is gonna spill right out, all jumbled up and messy and he'll get that wrong too. But when he opens his mouth, Jared actually _flinches_ , as if his words might physically hurt him, and he can't do it. 

So he just turns around, grabs his jacket and walks away.

He thinks he might hear Jared yell his name again, thinks it might sound a bit desperate and a bit angry and definitely frustrated. He thinks that this might be the last time he heard Jared's voice, and Jared was angry with him.

He makes his way into rero five, checks carefully if it really is Jim this time (it is) and undresses. Jim hardly speaks a word again, but for once, Jensen doesn't mind. It gives him time to think about what the hell he's doing with his life. And if his thoughts turn towards Jared and how very much Jim's hands are nothing like his about halfway through the hour, so what? So what if Jim doesn't talk about video games or joke around with him? So what if Jim's hands aren't as soft or relaxing, or that he never uses different techniques? So what if Jim isn't gay? Does it really matter?

By the time his hour's up, Jensen's decided that it really does. That if anything is wrong, it's coming to Sandover and not being on Jared's table.

So Jensen stops coming to Sandover at all.


	6. part six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written in 2010 for [spn_j2_bigbang](http://spn_j2_bigbang.livejournal.com).  
> beautiful art made by [amie](http://amindaya.livejournal.com) can be found [here](https://amindaya.livejournal.com/2920.html).

**XXXIV.**

A few days later, when he's pretending to work on a presentation for a holiday agency, Murray bursts into his office in the middle of a phone call. He doesn't knock, doesn't greet him, he just walks straight in. It's not all that surprising: they will never truly get along. They've been avoiding each other, not meeting each other's eyes unless they really had to, but Jensen can tell they've both been trying to be civil and to respect the other professionally. It's worked out, more or less. He'll never really get why Murray insists on cluttering his ads with tacky decoration, but he can tell the guy's trying to keep it to a minimum. And Jensen, on his part, allows him a folly here and there. It's worked so far and the customers don't complain.

What does surprise him is that Murray makes a beeline for his desk, leaning over it as if he'd like nothing better than to take him by the collar and punch his lights out. He's fuming and he's still got his cell pressed to one ear, fingers white on the black of the frame.

'You -' he breathes, like he's having to put all his energy in not shouting. 'You're a fucking jackass. Asshole.'

Jensen gets up slowly, staring at Murray. He has no idea whatsoever what's going on, but if he's getting into a fight, he at least wants to be prepared.

However, Murray seems to have no intention of letting it come to blows, because he just turns around and walks back out of the office, muttering, 'Yeah, yeah. Alright, Jay.'

Their professional relationship is kind of non-existent after that.

*

Well. Technically, any relationship between Jensen and the word “professional” is non-existent. And there hasn't even been one invented to accurately describe the kind of fuck-up he is, but he's pretty sure the dictionary will be asking for his photo sometime soon.

Chris and Steve have noticed, he can tell by the way they're hovering close to him whenever they can, as if they're just waiting for him to snap again and he can't even blame them. He blames the headache that's returned, though, every chance he gets and hopes that it doesn't sound entirely as lame as it sounds in his own head.

He hasn't said anything about Sandover, or about Jared to anyone, but he knows they all suspect something isn't entirely right. It pisses him off, kind of. He used to be good at hiding, at pretending, but now, it seems there's nothing left of the walls he's been building all his life.

And of course, it can only go downhill from there. Jensen reaches an all-time low during the presentation of – of all things – the Vaughan-file. He doesn't even properly realize that it's the morning of the presentation until Tom slams a hand down on his shoulder as he passes and asks, 'You ready for the big day?'

First two things that run through his mind before he can get rational about it, are “dentist” and “wedding” and only then does his brain decide to catch up with things and panic. 'No,' he says, eyes wide.

Tom only laughs and runs off. 'That's what you always say.'

It is, usually. And he usually is lying. Jensen is as prepared as they ever come, and then some. But this time, it is the honest-to-God truth. This time, he got ready by lying on the couch at home, watching the saddest reality shows he's ever seen and building an imaginary blanket fort, simply because he was too lazy to move. Until he went to jerk off, thinking of Jared's hands. 

As far as the subject of wallowing in self-pity goes, Jensen is pretty much an authority, now. Explaining to Vaughan why his ads look the way they do, however, is something he's somewhat less of an expert in. Especially since he hasn't even looked at the latest version of them.

And the presentation goes as well as can be expected. Which, obviously, is not well at all.

*

Jensen is livid. After struggling through twenty minutes of trying to bullshit him and the company out of the most atrocious line of ads to ever come into existence, he's ready to take out everyone that dares come close to him. Especially Chad Michael Murray. Because the ads he had to defend in that meeting looked suspiciously like the first couple of tries Murray sent him, only much, much worse.

There was no possible way that this could end well. The presentation sucked. Jensen sucked. Jensen knew he sucked and most of all, Vaughan and Morgan knew it too.

'I have no idea what the fuck I ever did to you or your inanely large ego, but I'm about ready to rip your fucking throat out,' Jensen grunts as quietly as he can, as he leans over Murray and pretends he's just having a look at what he's doing.

'Is that supposed to scare me, Ackles?' Murray says and Jensen actually thinks he's smiling. He's _smiling_.

'I'll wipe that grin right off your face if you're still here tomorrow, Murray,' he says, looking him right in the eye. 'I want your desk empty, your laptop gone and - if you have any sense of decency - you'll put those photos in the trashcan.'

'What's the matter?' Murray asks in a low voice, face inches from his own. 'Presentation didn't go well?'

'You know damn well why,' he says, slamming a hand down onto the desk.

'Is it because you didn't do your job the way you're supposed to?' Murray is still grinning at him. 'I thought you were supposed to set the example for us, plebs.'

'Listen here, you punk,' Jensen says, and before he knows it, he's got a fist curled in Murray's collar and another drawn back and ready to strike. He doesn't even have time to process what he's about to do, when Chris grabs hold of him and pulls him back.

'Jensen,' he hisses into his ear. Jensen can tell he has trouble holding back too. 'What the fuck do you think you're doing?'

He doesn't know. He honestly, truly has no clue what he's doing or how he got to this point, so he quietly lets himself get dragged off to his own office by Chris.

'What the hell was that?' Chris fumes when he's closed the door calmly. God, the man knows how to put on a facade in public. Jensen thinks that if Chris is in better control of his emotions than he is, the world must be coming to an end. 'I get a call from Tom about your Vaughan-meeting, next thing I know, you're about to punch Murray's fucking lights out?'

'He messed up the presentation,' Jensen says with a sigh as he sits down. He nearly rolls his eyes, because he sounds like a five-year-old. 'Completely fucked it up.'

'How? The guy wasn't even on the same floor as you!'

Chris is right, Jensen knows that. Just like he knows that he is mostly angry with himself, not with Murray, because he should've seen that the guy was trying to fuck him over by sending him those ads. But right now, he's still too mad to admit it.

'He just did. Guy never does his job properly. I gotta kick him out,' he says, getting up. 'We probably lost Vaughan because of him.'

'Jensen, don't,' Chris says, stone-faced, and blocks the door so he can't leave. 'If you still feel this way tomorrow, then by all means, finally get rid of the kid. But right now, that'll only land you right back where all your problems started and you don't want that.'

'Says who?' he blurts, anger getting the better of him again. 'Things were a lot easier. I wouldn't have fucked up the Vaughan-case back then and you know it.'

'What in the name of heaven are you talking about?' Chris asks, holding out his arms. 'Stop whining about that damn case. We'll put Tom and Steve on it, we'll throw him some freebies and we're fine. There's obviously something else on your mind that's bothering you. How about you get that out of the way first?'

'I can't,' he breathes, running a hand over his face. 'I have to fix -'

'No!' Chris says forcefully. 'You are _not_ your work, Jensen.'

'Then what the hell else am I?' Jensen says without thinking, louder than he means to.

They're silent for a moment. It's a loaded question and they both know it. 

'Scared, is what I'd say. I don't know what of, exactly, because you don't share nothin' with us anymore.' Chris sounds defeated and sad. 'And I'm not sayin' you have to if you're not comfortable doing it, but you gotta talk to somebody, man, because this ain't doing you or anybody else any good.'

He can't even be bothered to answer anymore, he just nods without even looking up at Chris and waits for him to leave.

Five minutes or an hour later, a memo from Morgan pops up on his screen.

> _You have tomorrow off. Come in on Thursday and stop fucking up._
> 
> _JDM_

Jensen sighs and rubs his eyes. Well. He can't say he didn't see it coming.

**XXXV.**

It’s six fifty-five in the morning and Jensen’s already been up for forty-five minutes (showered, shaved, dressed and caffeinated), when he remembers Morgan gave him the day off. He considers going back to bed for about half a second before he realizes that he’d never get back to sleep anyway and decides to take the opportunity to have a decent breakfast.

Sadly, a crusade of his kitchen tells him he has virtually nothing that could pass for one. That’s how, half an hour later, he’s surrounded by about ten different kinds of French croissant and enough cereal to feed an army for a substantial amount of time, but he figures it’s been so long since he’s done this, he doesn’t even know what he likes anymore. He bites a corner off each piece of pastry, watches two episodes of _Friends_ he’s never seen before as probably the only person on the planet and wishes he still had Icarus to feed the leftovers to. To his complete and utter dismay, he glances over at his watch and notices it’s only just past eight and he’s already out of things to do.

So he sighs deeply and boots his computer. Working from the office isn’t entirely as necessary as it’s easy - he can make do here. He’s got most files stored on the company’s external server anyway, so he can get at least some work done from home. 

It’s only after he gets an error-message seven times and he’s tried logging on in every possible way he can imagine – from just typing to copy-pasting the password from a word document, from typing slowly and spelling it out to the computer to typing fast and without looking at his fingers, from pressing “log on” twenty times rapidly to waiting a minute and then clicking, as if taking the computer by surprise would work – that he gets an email from Chris,

> _Morgan limited your access for today. Stop trying. Go do something fun or I swear to God, I’ll send you every virus we have on file._
> 
> _Jackass._
> 
> _Kind regards,_
> 
> __**Christian Kane**  
>  IT Department  
> FerrisInc.  
> KaneC@it.ferrisinc.com

Five minutes later, his inbox is flooded with 209 new messages, all sent by Penile Enlarge, asking if he needs help satisfying his ladyfriend in a frightening combination of capitals and symbols and he gives up.

After he’s made Chris a profile on a Britney Spears-fansite and posted in one of the forums that he’s a really sensitive guy who’s tired of people dumping all over Britney and that he’d love to get in touch with other people who feel the same way.

He potters around the house for ten more minutes after that, desperately looking for something to do, but ends up taking out his cell and texting Danneel miserably. She's supposed to have landed two nights ago anyway.

> _Got time?_

She replies with, 

> _Not for what you’re asking. I’m an honest woman now. Xo_

It takes some time, but in the end, he manages to convince her he’s not talking about sex and she agrees to swing by with Icarus. He’s got coffee ready, manages to find a cake somewhere in his cupboards and has the table set by the time Danneel arrives.

‘This is scary,’ is the first thing she says when she sees it, barely holding on to the little cockapoo that goes frantic over seeing Jensen. ‘You’re definitely not getting laid.’

‘If I’d known there still was a chance, I’d have gotten the good china out,’ Jensen says, trying to hold his smile as he relieves her of the squirmy hairball. ‘What happened to all that “honest woman”-crap?’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean by me,’ she says as she inches closer to the table to check the cake out, anyway. ‘I meant by anyone ever again. Cake and coffee? You’ve turned into my grandma.’

‘Shut up,’ Jensen says as Icarus licks his face until it’s covered in slobber and feels itchy. ‘I took the day off. And it’s been a while since I’ve had visitors.’

‘I used to live here, Jensen, I don’t think I still count as a visitor.’ Danneel takes a cup of coffee and sniffs at the cake twice before deciding she won’t have a piece and freezes, frowning. ‘Wait, you took the day off?’

‘So?’ Jensen asks, rubbing Icarus’s belly the way he knows he likes it to avoid looking at her. From the corners of his eyes, though, he can tell she’s staring at him with her arms crossed.

‘You never take a day off. In all the years I’ve known you, the only time you stayed home was when you had tonsillitis and even then it took three people to convince you.’ When Jensen doesn’t answer and keeps playing with the dog, she heaves a sigh. ‘Put him down, Jensen. Now.’

He knows that he’s pushing her, that she’s genuinely worried because he’s never reached out to anyone, not even to her when they were together, so he does as he’s asked and sighs too.

‘Alright, Morgan insisted I did,’ he says, still not meeting her eyes. He puts his hands in his pockets and leans back against the table. ‘I’ve been screwing up, Danni.’

‘What, at work?’ 

She sounds so surprised he wants to laugh, but he shakes his head instead. ‘Everywhere, I guess. I don’t know.’

‘Don’t know what?’ she asks and mirrors his pose. She’s wearing an old pair of jeans that’s so worn you can see her knees and an old oversized hoodie, but the turquoise Converse are new. He loves that she never goes through the trouble of dressing up for him. She’s still beautiful, though, always beautiful and he wishes he’d loved her more and better and had spared himself the mess he is in now. But at least she’s happy now, and that counts too.

‘How to undo things,’ he says, still in the same train of thought. ‘Or how to make them better.’

‘You sound as if the world is ending.’

‘Only mine,’ he says without thinking and immediately winces at how melodramatic that sounds. ‘No, I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing that bad.’

‘Then I’m sure you can tell me,’ she says and picks up Icarus from where he’s lying by their feet. Without looking back or waiting for him, she makes for the door. ‘I’ve got his leash in the car, I’m sure a walk will do you good.’

**XXXVI.**

They’ve been out for over an hour before he’s explained everything: how he’s been slacking at work and doesn’t know what to do about it, because it’s never happened to him before. How he can’t seem to find a balance between having fun with his friends, doing his job and having something that might resemble a love life. What the reason for the imbalance is in the first place.

‘So, Jared?’ Danneel asks with a twinkle in her eyes as she gets up from the bench in the park they’ve been sitting on for the last half hour. She’s taking it really well, the fact that Jensen isn’t sure what gender he prefers, but he can feel the concern radiate off her. ‘I can't say I'm entirely surprised.'

'What? What do you mean, “not entirely surprised”?' Jensen asks, feeling insulted.

'Oh, come on, Jensen.' She laughs loudly. 'You met like three times a week and you still bolted every time he gave you a call. You think I didn't notice? How come you never told me before?’ 

‘I didn’t want to bother you. It would've been weird,’ he says with a shrug as he stands up too and adds, ‘I talked to Chris.’

‘Did he tell you to rub some dirt on it?’ She rolls her eyes and hands him Icarus’s leash. ‘He’s probably the worst person to go to for advice.’

‘He’s been a good friend. He tried his best, he’s just not really good at talking.’ He laughs for real, for the first time during their conversation. ‘Besides, I think Mike’s probably worse.’

‘Oh God.’ Danneel stops dead, making Jensen stop as well.

At first, he thinks it’s out of mortified amusement at the idea of getting advice from Mike, but the look on her face tells him she’s totally serious.

‘What? What is it?’ he asks, worried.

‘Mike. He said I was your girlfriend,’ she says, looking him right in the eye. ‘In the bar, when I was leaving for Milan, Mike told Jared I was your girlfriend.’

Jensen doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat and starts walking again.

‘And you didn’t correct him!’ she says loudly, trying to make him stand still again. Next to them, Icarus is whining, utterly confused at whether they’re going or staying. ‘Jensen!’

‘What?’ he asks, his voice sounding angrier than he wants it to.

‘Are you in love with him?’

There’s still that knee-jerk “no” he wants to huff out, or a laugh he wants to bark at her for asking such a ridiculous question, but something’s stopping him from doing either.

‘I-‘ he starts lamely, without even knowing how to finish the sentence. He frowns and finally admits, ‘I’ve never thought about it like that.’

It's true – he's been thinking about being gay, about what it would be like to be with a guy. He's wondered how he feels about kissing a man, or sleeping with one, or having sex with one. But he never really considered he might fall in love with one.

‘You’ve been re-scheduling your carefully planned workaholic life around this guy and you never stopped to think if you liked him?’ Danneel asks incredulously, her voice is soft, though, and Jensen thinks he can spot some of that pity he hates so much. 'I only met him once and I was hoping for a ring by the end of the night.'

‘Of course I liked him. I like a lot of people,’ Jensen says, shoulders tensing up defensively. When he notices Danneel is trying to speak again, he continues quickly, ‘I don’t know, okay. He’s got great hands. He’s fun to hang with. And I may have thought he was hot and that was confusing, yeah, but you don’t usually go from there to “crush”.’

‘You would have if he’d been a girl,’ she counters immediately. She sounds so reasonable and it makes Jensen want to push her into the big pond they’re walking alongside of.

‘But he isn’t one,’ he bites out irritably. ‘Christ, Danneel. This has never happened to me before. Cut me some slack.’

‘It’s all the slack-cutting that’s gotten you to this point,’ she tells him. ‘This is what talking to Chris will get you.’

‘He tried telling me the same thing as you are doing right now,’ Jensen snaps at her. ‘I was the one who told him he was wrong.’

‘Really?’ she asks, arching one eyebrow.

‘Less articulately, but yes,’ Jensen admits with a shrug, turning away when he feels Danneel’s beginning to laugh. He’s gonna laugh too if he doesn’t and dammit, he wants to be annoyed with her for a while longer.

‘That must’ve been a really awkward conversation,’ Danneel says with a giggle.

Jensen swears under his breath when he remembers the slightly drunken night he talked to Chris about it and feels the corners of his mouth turn up. He keeps walking, keeps looking over the water until he can’t keep quiet anymore and says, ‘Did you know he and Steve made out in college?’

‘Get out!’ Danneel yelps, with big smile on her face as she slaps him on the arm. ‘Him and Steve?’

‘What he told me,’ Jensen tells her, shrugging.

‘Oh man, I’m sure “awkward” doesn’t even begin to cut it. The mileage you’re gonna get out of that one,’ she says, still laughing. ‘I wish I’d been there.’

‘He’d have killed you,’ Jensen supplies cheerfully. ‘And he’ll kill me if he finds out I told you, so you keep quiet.’

‘Aye aye,’ she says and salutes him. They walk in silence for a few minutes when Danneel suddenly asks, ‘Hey Jensen, why doesn’t he like me? Chris?’

‘He -‘ Jensen almost tells her that Chris does like her, but he knows better than to lie to her – she’d be able to see right through him anyway. So he tells her the truth. ‘He respects you.’

Danneel fixes him with a blank stare. ‘That doesn’t make a lick of sense.’

‘No, for Chris it does.’ Jensen chuckles. ‘Mostly, I think he’s intimidated by how he doesn’t intimidate you at all. You and his mother are probably the only two women on the planet. He’s not used to it.’

‘Oh. I’d never seen it like that,’ Danneel says pensively, but then her face softens. 'That's - that's almost cute. No, actually, that's _adorable_.'

Jensen closes his eyes and sighs deeply. 'There's no way you'll even pretend to assure me you're not going to tell him this, is there?'

She hooks an arm in his and lets him tug her along, falling into step with him as she leans into him. 'Good thing you know me so well.'

They’re quiet for a few moments, still shuffling through the park while huddling close to try and expel some of the cold that’s gotten into their bones now they’ve been out this long. She shivers and breathes in sharply before she starts talking again. ‘You never answered my question, you know. If you’re in love with Jared?’

He’s about to ask her if it matters, he’s probably never gonna see him again. He can’t stand the idea of going back to the spa and not having Jared as his masseur and he can’t imagine Jared ever wanting to join Mike at the bar again, after last time’s catastrophe. But then it’s his turn to stop dead and almost make Danneel trip.

Right in front of him, in the grass, next to a couple of autumn-picnickers and a few noisy kids playing something that’s supposed to pass for baseball, Jared’s roughhousing with two dogs. 

‘Come on, Harley, give it back,’ he can hear him say with laughter in his voice. His cheeks are a bit pink from the exercise and the cold, probably, and Jensen thinks he’s never looked better. ‘Come on, it’s time to go home.’

He turns to look at Danneel, who’s smiling at him, and tries to figure out how to answer her. Because apparently, it does matter. A lot. He can’t understand how Chris and Danneel could figure it out so quickly, when he still was utterly clueless. God, his mom figured it out sooner than him.

His mouth is dry again, his stomach is jittery and his knees are wobbly now he can see Jared, right in front of him after a little over a month. But none of that is entirely new to him – it’s the same thing that happened every time he walked into his rero, even if he'd always thought it was for another reason. It’s realizing how much he’s missed seeing Jared that hits him with the subtlety of a ton of bricks.

‘Never mind,’ Danneel says when she understands he’s still trying to tell her something. ‘I’ve got my answer.’

He turns to look back at Jared, and Jared is looking at him too, laughter faded from his face completely. He seems confused and sad, doesn’t try giving Jensen the smile he did get even at his last Sandover visit. He just turns around, whistles for his dogs and starts walking away from the park.

Jensen wants to hit himself when he realizes what this must’ve looked like to Jared, him and Danneel walking a dog together, smiling at each other with their arms linked.

Danneel’s figured it out too, because she pushes him slightly and says, ‘Go on. You’re not gonna make the same mistake again, are you?’

‘What if he doesn’t want me?’ Jensen asks without taking his eyes off Jared’s retreating back. ‘Or what if I’m too late?’

‘Only one way to find out,’ Danneel answers and takes Icarus’s leash out of his hands. ‘Now go!’

‘Thanks, Dan,’ he says, and he means it. He’s never been so grateful to anyone in his entire life. Before running off after Jared, he gives her a tiny smile and a kiss on the cheek.

**XXXVII.**

Every step he takes closer convinces him more that this is a ridiculously bad idea. With his luck, Jared will have become happily married, or engaged, or a devoted father to three endearing, adopted African children in the last month. Or he’ll have realized that Sandy actually is perfect for him and he’ll have switched teams. Or – more likely – he’ll have discovered just what a mess Jensen really is and he’ll want nothing more to do with him.

He’s so busy freaking out and trying not to let it show, that it almost doesn’t register that he’s suddenly close enough to touch Jared on the shoulder. He still has no idea what to say, because all he can think of is “abort, abort”. His body appears to have a different plan, though, as his mouth opens of its own accord and out comes what’s possibly a quite disturbing, high-pitched sound to the outside world. However, his mind recognizes it as a very weak attempt at “Jared”.

For a moment, he dares to hope that Jared hasn’t heard him, but then he can see the broad shoulders in front of him set and all hope is lost. He doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t turn to look and Jensen figures that since Jared’s already heard him, he’s got to see it through now. So he takes a deep breath, tries to think straight and gives it another shot.

‘Jared,’ he says in a voice so steady he takes even himself by surprise.

This time, Jared does stop. He doesn’t face Jensen immediately, but by the time he does, there isn’t the least hint of sadness in his expression like there was before. He flashes Jensen an easy, surprised smile and it's so convincing that Jensen actually wonders if Jared really did see him back in the park.

‘Jensen, hey!’ he says, offering him a hand and a slap on the shoulder, as always. ‘It’s been a while. What are you doing here?’

‘Yeah,’ Jensen answers, enjoying the relaxed way the hand rests on his shoulder just slightly longer than is appropriate for anyone but Jared Padalecki. Shit, he misses those hands. ‘I was just – I was walking and I saw you pass. Thought I’d say hi. I didn’t know you had dogs.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Jared says, laughing as he looks at the two mutts sitting by his feet, waiting obediently. ‘Harley and Sadie are my babies. Wouldn’t know what to do without them. Sandy’s crazy about them too.’

Jensen bends down to scratch the biggest one behind the ear and when he straightens up again, the atmosphere seems to have changed completely. Jared’s staring down the street, squinting, and he clears his throat awkwardly.

‘Right,’ Jensen says desperately, stuck between yelling the first thing that pops into his head at Jared just to keep the conversation going and backing away slowly so they can both pretend this never happened. ‘How is Sandy?’

‘She’s great,’ Jared answers cheerfully, but his enthusiasm feels forced to Jensen. ‘She’s – she asked about you. Said you haven’t been at Sandover in a while.’

‘Right, I-‘ Jensen tells him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. ‘I’ve been busy. Work is.’

‘Yeah, no, I get it. I didn’t even know.’ Jared shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans (the same pair he was wearing in the bar, Jensen notices). ‘I thought you were still with Jim.’

He says it so casually that Jensen almost wonders if Jared really hasn’t given Jensen’s absence any more thought, but then he finally manages to catch Jared’s eye and he knows that he’s supposed to feel as cut down as he does.

‘Jared, listen,’ he starts, but Jared interrupts.

‘No, you know what, I can’t do this,’ he says, throwing his hands in the air and raising his eyebrows at Jensen. ‘It doesn’t matter and I gotta go anyway. I’ll see you around, maybe.’

He starts to walk away, looking like a kicked puppy and Jensen doesn’t even have the chance to think about reacting. Luckily, his body is still one step ahead of his brain and his hand’s already decided to stop Jared by grabbing hold of his arm.

‘What? Wait,’ he says, panicking slightly. Jared does stop, though, and does wait and Jensen realizes that he’s gotta do it now or never. He could lean in and just kiss Jared, they’re close enough anyway - they’re still touching, even – and God knows he’s been wanting to do it for ages. Why shouldn’t he just -

He takes a step forward, feeling his heartbeat speed up dangerously, beating so loudly he can feel it drumming in his ears and throat – but then he nearly steps on one of Jared’s dogs and a couple of bikers speed past them, ringing their bells loudly and what little opportunity there was for Jensen to be bold is gone. So he looks away, embarrassed, and licks his sorely deprived lips instead. ‘I want to explain, but I don't – Hey, you wanna go somewhere warmer? I can’t think straight in this cold.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Jared says immediately and tracks an invisible pattern on the ground with the tip of his shoe. ‘I’ve gotta-‘

‘I want to,’ Jensen counters. ‘I’ll buy. Please.’

Jared’s still avoiding looking at him, but he does nod his consent at the tree behind Jensen’s right shoulder.

‘Great,’ Jensen says and tries to smile, but it feels like the biggest lie he’s ever told.

*

So a regular forr me,’ Jensen says as he takes a seat at the table Jared’s found for them. Harley and Sadie are lying at his feet. ‘And a decaf for you.’

He can barely contain a smile when he sets the mug down in front of him.

‘Why do I get the feeling you’re mocking me?’ Jared asks. He doesn’t seem particularly amused.

Jensen wasn’t actually laughing at the decaf, more like he has trouble believing he’s getting to have another conversation with Jared. Until this morning, he was convinced he’d never see him again and now he’s close to confessing to a schoolgirl crush on him. But when he thinks about it, it is kind of funny that a guy the size of Jared drinks decaf with – apparently - a ridiculous amount of milk in it.

‘No. I just thought you’d be more of a double espresso kind of guy,’ he says quickly, fumbling with the ear on his mug.

‘I rarely have caffeine,’ Jared answers seriously. ‘Too much energy already. I get hyper. Sandy says caffeine makes me unbearable.’

‘That's what you get for putting her on the waiting list,’ Jensen says with a smirk. 

Jared shoots him a small smile, but it fades quickly. ‘So you wanted to talk?’

Jensen sighs and rubs his eyes. He had kind of hoped he could just distract Jared into having a good time without actually having to explain anything. Apparently, it shows on his face, because Jared shakes his head and smiles again – wryly, this time. 

‘Yeah,’ he says and starts to get up. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

Jensen rolls his eyes, at himself mostly, and grabs hold of Jared’s sleeve, pulling him down. He doesn't know how long he'll be able to keep up this game of push-and-tug. ‘No, Jared,’ he says and he hates how desperate he sounds. ‘Look. I’m – I’m not good at these things. This isn’t easy for me.’

Jared holds up his hands. ‘Hey, I didn’t ask. You're the one who wanted to do this.’

‘And I still do,’ Jensen says quickly. ‘I just don’t know how.’

‘Well, if you figure it out at some point, we’ll give it another shot,’ Jared tells him and again tries to get up.

‘No,’ Jensen says, louder and more emphatically than he means to. ‘This is probably the single most awkward moment I’ve ever had to live through, but if I don’t give it a try now, I’m never gonna have the guts.’

Jared narrows his eyes at him and leans closer slightly. ‘You’re not confessing to murder. If it’s such agony to you, I’ll be glad to spare you the pain and you can go back to avoiding me.’

‘God, Jared,’ Jensen spits, getting angry. ‘Will you just shut up and give me time to explain? Christ. Wasn’t that long ago, you were lurking around every corner, ready to jump out and make me talk.’

‘Right,’ Jared huffs. ‘And then you started avoiding _corners_ , Jensen. I think I got the message.’

‘No,’ Jensen says for about the tenth time in five minutes, ‘no, you didn’t get the message at all.’

Jensen can tell Jared’s less than impressed with him, but he sits down anyway, leaning back in his chair, and motions for Jensen to get it over with. He’s never seen this side of Jared and it startles him to realize that he isn’t all smiles, all the time. But it's intriguing at the same time. Suddenly, Jensen wants to know every single thing that pisses Jared off and everything that makes him happy again. It's terrifying.

‘I’m,’ he starts and falls silent immediately, already at a loss for words. He frowns and examines the cracks in his mug carefully as he tries to come up with a way to say this without sounding like a complete moron. And then he realizes there probably isn’t one and decides to just start talking without thinking much. Maybe he’ll be able to create order out of the chaos of his thoughts if he speaks them out loud. ‘Whatever Mike may have told you, Danneel and I are not a couple. We used to be, a while back, but it didn’t work out. She's a great girl and a saint, because for some reason, she’s still willing to put up with me. As a good friend.’

He dares to glance at Jared, in spite of himself. He’s frowning too, as if he has no idea what to make of this. When he sees Jensen’s watching him, he slips his mask back on. ‘That’s private,’ he says, face betraying nothing. ‘Doesn’t have anything to do with –‘

‘It does,’ Jensen interrupts. ‘A lot, actually. I used to be this outgoing kid, you know. Nothing out of the ordinary, not too popular, but I knew how to talk to someone, man. And I don't know how it happened, but that's not - I don’t. I don’t open up to people easily, not anymore. I don’t _talk_ to people easily, which this conversation is making painfully obvious. I mean, I’m good when it comes to business and I know what buttons to push to reel a client in, but I’m a social train wreck. I’m not like you or Mike. I’m more like Katie.’

‘Jensen, that’s crazy,’ Jared says, annoyed, like he doesn’t believe a word he’s saying. ‘I haven’t once seen you get awkward. Not until you switched to Jim.’

‘Exactly,’ he says vehemently, feeling that explains it perfectly. Jared, however, seems to disagree, so he tries to elaborate. ‘I never felt awkward around you. I feel, I don’t know. It was easy talking to you, without having to think or consider my words carefully. Never feeling like I had to impress you, or anybody, not when you were around.’

‘Yeah, I can see why that might be a problem for you,’ Jared drawls.

‘It is,’ Jensen insists. ‘Because I didn’t know why it’s easier to be around you. People don't just change from one moment to the next.’

‘Are you serious?’ Jared asks. ‘You don’t have to analyze it. Sometimes you get along, Jensen. Sometimes you just click.’

‘Not me, not this easily. And I wondered and started to think about it, I just. I guess I got scared,’ he says dejectedly, done trying to accurately convey what’s going through his mind. He’s clearly terrible at it and Jared’s not even trying to understand, so he’ll settle for getting it off his chest. He feels so frustrated he wants to kick something. If he’d acted sooner, if he’d manned up earlier, this might have been the first good thing in his life in months. ‘I felt like I had to get out. And that’s made everything awkward. I’m sorry.’

Jared raises his eyebrows and hands. ‘Any time you feel like making sense, man.’

‘Look. The only people I’ve ever felt this comfortable around were Lisa and Joanna.’ He gently shoves his empty mug over the surface of the table as he leans back in his chair, feeling defeated, and then finishes with a heavy sigh, ‘And Danneel.’

Jared’s about to talk, no doubt to express his agitation, when something seems to click in his head and he closes his mouth and stares at Jensen with wide eyes.

‘Ex-girlfriends,’ he says eventually, and even though it’s not in his intonation, Jensen can hear the question in his voice.

Jensen nods, giving him a mirthless smile. ‘So you might see why that was confusing,’ he says. ‘I’m – I was busy with work. Always. I didn’t have time for a relationship of any kind, let alone time to deal with this. So I didn’t deal and I switched masseurs.’

It seems like hours are creeping by and Jared’s still staring at him, frowning slightly and breathing deeply. Just when Jensen’s about to ask if he’s alright, Jared stops him and says, ‘Right. You might wanna rephrase that, before I get the wrong idea.’

Oh, great. Not only did Jared just shoot him down, he’s also looking at Jensen as if he’s the last person in the world he’d want to be around. Last time Jensen’s ever listened to Danneel.

And he’s about ready to just call this whole thing off, let it go, get up, except there’s some part of him that is actually kind of insulted by Jared’s reaction. Okay, he’s not exactly been Casanova, but he did the best he could, given the situation. He started half-assing at work, lost sleep over this. Hell, he started going to the gym.

So instead of just getting up and walking away, he hears himself say, ‘What idea? That I got a crush on you?’

Jared looks away, shrugging awkwardly, and Jensen’s almost grateful that his eyes aren’t focused on him anymore. 

‘That’s wrong, is it?’ he asks and he surprises even himself with how calm and soft his voice is. He almost wants to laugh. ‘I guess I’m not your type.’

‘No. It’s not that, it’s – You’re not?’ Jared says, nervously. Part of Jensen is taking satisfaction in the way Jared’s now squirming, just as he was ten minutes ago. Serves him right for being so obnoxious, earlier. Jared takes a deep breath, closes his eyes in frustration, and gives it another shot. ‘You’re not -‘

Jensen ducks his head at him, squinting, and gets closer by resting his elbows on his knees and leaning his upper arms against the table. He’s trying to read Jared’s face, but he doesn’t see anything beyond the fact that the guy’s actually pretty spooked. So Jensen pulls back, holds up his hands as if he’s surrendering. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have –‘

‘You’re not joking,’ Jared finally finishes, as if Jensen hasn’t said a thing.

‘You see me laughing?’ He sighs again, finally ready to throw in the towel, and absently rubs his palms on his jeans. ‘It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.’

‘What way was it supposed to happen, then?’ Jared asks, and when Jensen looks up at him, he’s almost giggling. ‘Jensen. Seriously?’

‘What?’ he asks defensively, feeling he’s missed a vital part of the conversation.

‘This is why you stopped coming?’ Jared asks, as if it’s the most preposterous reason he’s ever heard. He shakes his head and smiles. ‘Man. You think I always work people into my schedule like that? I ditched other customers so you could come, I stayed extra hours, came in on free days. I even took that ridiculous tantric massage class, just so I could stun you with my talent.’

‘Well, you can rest assured, that worked,’ Jensen blurts. It only then hits him what Jared's just told him, that he went to great lengths to see him, as well, and Jensen loses track of everything he wanted to say. It's like his mind completely short-circuits. 'But you never said – You never said _anything_.'

'What did you want me to do?' Jared says with a shrug, as if he really doesn't know the answer to the question. 'You kept talking 'bout dating girls. I wasn't gonna hit on a straight man. Especially not after you found out I was gay. Man, I thought you were repulsed by me or something, the way you nearly came out of your skin whenever you saw me. And then you switched to _Jim_ , of all people – I mean. I still don't get it.'

'I nearly _came_ whenever I saw you,' Jensen says, a bit too loud and a bit too excited, desperately wanting to get through to Jared. He groans when he realizes what he's just said in a friggin' Starbucks and slams his face into the table. Jared bursts out laughing. 'See. This is why. This is what you do to me.'

Jared laughs louder, still. 'You're adorable, Jensen Ackles.'

'Shut up,' Jensen murmurs, embarrassed, face still smushed on the grainy wood. He finally looks up at Jared, then, who is staring back at Jensen as if “adorable” is everything he's been looking for. 'I'm sorry. I didn't understand, myself – I'm not sure I do now, even. I just – I was pretty sure I was straight until I met you, man. This is a pretty huge thing to come to grips with.'

'I know,' Jared says compassionately and Jensen feels like a complete moron again. Of course, Jared went through the same thing at some point. He looks uncertain for a moment, before he asks, 'Do you still think you're straight now?'

'Honestly? I wanna say yes,' he answers. It's going to be hard saying this out loud, even if he's been thinking it for a while, so he leans back in his chair and looks out over the coffee shop. At least that way, he won't have to look Jared in the eye. It's too late, though, he's already seen his face fall. 'But the way my body reacts to you, the way I feel around you, I can't – that's not just friendship. And I don't think I want it to be.'

He turns back to Jared and tries to read him. He thinks he can see a mix of determined and hopeful, happy and smug. 

'Good,' Jared says, getting up suddenly, and for a horrifying moment, Jensen thinks he's going to leave. In less than a second, he's thought up a million disaster scenarios – he thinks that maybe Jared doesn't want him, or that Jared isn't gay at all, or that this was just a way to get back at him: make him open up and then leave him hanging - and through his panic, each seems more likely than the next.

But then Jared crouches in front of him, face close to his, expression soft and gentle. He puts his hands on Jensen's where they're resting on his knees and looks at them before carefully looking up at him, as if he's checking Jensen's okay with it.

Jensen is. He's really fucking okay with it. After not having Jared touch him for over a month, he's taking whatever he can get. It must show on his face, then, because Jared smiles and says, 'That's really good.'

That's when Jared makes his move. He puts his hands on either side of Jensen's face – these gigantic hands that feel like they're touching every inch of Jensen's head, that could crush it or heal it, that have probably done both already – and lurches up to catch his lips with his own, like a predator going in for the kill. And just like that, Jared and Jensen are kissing. The first thing Jensen thinks of is that they're in public, that he is getting kissed in public, by a _man_. But then he can feel the hands shift just a bit, feel Jared exhale as if he's been holding his breath for ages and it hits him that it's not just a man. It's _Jared_ , and Jensen has been waiting for this kiss for so long, it's not really hard to finally get lost in it.

It's not at all what he'd expected, nothing like what Chris told him. Because this is nothing like kissing a girl. His hands are up in Jared's hair before he realizes it, clutching it in his clenched fists, just as Jared is pretty much doing to his. It must look like a power struggle to everyone else, Jensen manages to think, and he's not too sure it isn't. They're kissing each other as if their lives are depending on it, as if they might never get to do this again. There's teeth in there, clashing as they're both too eager to taste and feel each other. He's frowning hard as he tries to discern all the different tastes he can detect in Jared's mouth (there's the coffee from just now, something minty and even the lavender lotion from Sandover) and even though those are not the best mix, it tastes amazing to Jensen. Jared bites his lower lip hard - it seems to release the tension that's been building up inside him for months and Jensen cannot help but whimper.

Jared pulls back then - slightly out of breath, cheeks tinted just a tiny bit pink – and rests his forehead against Jensen's. He smiles again.

If he looks at it objectively, it's not the best kiss Jensen's ever had. It wasn't the easiest, or the smoothest. But at the same time, this is _Jared_ , which means that being objective is entirely out of the question, anyway. And he can tell that with a bit of practice, there will be no competition whatsoever. Jensen's so overwhelmed by everything - by finally getting to kiss Jared, by the fact that he wasn't the one to make the first move, by all the thoughts and feelings swirling through him - he has to put in a lot of effort to just choke out, 'What is it?'

'I was just thinking,' Jared says, moving back just an inch. Jensen's hands clench without him consciously deciding to do it, just to keep him close. It makes Jared smile again, and Jensen thinks that if that's all it takes, he'll gladly keep hold of Jared's shirts for the rest of his life. 'You had me at “we switched”, you know.'

Jensen frowns at him, because he has no idea whatsoever what he's talking about. Jared can tell, apparently. 'Back at Sandover, when we first met? First thing you said to me is that you and Tom switched. If you'd made a move right then, I wouldn't have said no.'

Jensen needs a minute to think that over, so he takes a deep breath, trying to get his thoughts straight. 'So, all this time, you and I -'

'Yup.'

He runs a hand through his hair and snorts, suddenly feeling a million times lighter. ‘This sucks, huh.'

'Totally,' Jared says with a chuckle and kisses him again.

**XXXVIII.**

He hasn't officially come out to the people at work yet aside from Chris, Steve, Mike and Tom. But word travels fast on the work floor and it travels even faster if Chad Michael Murray's on it. No one seems to mind or care, though, and that's good enough for Jensen.

However, one morning, he finds a post-it on his desk that says,

_you hurt him  
i kill you._

_cmm_

Jensen has no idea what that means and, for a moment, he actually believes Murray's talking about himself in third person, but even then, he wouldn't know what he did to deserve such a note. He doesn't know how seriously he should take it either – not that he actually thinks Murray might murder him in his sleep, but after everything that happened between them, he'd like Steve's opinion on how to react to this nonetheless.

He finds out what Murray's talking about when he passes his desk on his way to HR. It's a complete surprise when he doesn't have to flinch at the half-naked women on his desktop, but instead sees his boyfriend with Murray, laughing at the camera with that drunken look he's come to know by now. It's taken from too close and Jared looks ridiculous, especially with that stupid beanie he insists on wearing. It covers half his right eye, which makes him look more like he is squinting in pain than actually having fun, but Jensen's heart still skips a beat.

He takes out his cell to text Jared immediately.

> _you're friends with chad michael murray?_

The reply he gets makes him laugh out loud, to great confusion of his designers. 

> _you're the reason he keeps texting me about teapots?_

Yeah. He's not exactly the life of the party yet, but he thinks he might get there, eventually. Jensen may or may not have learned to take a joke in the last couple of months, and he's learning how not to take himself or Chad Michael Murray too seriously.

So he just leaves Murray a post-it that says,

_I hurt him,  
I let you._

And he means it.

Murray's an acquired taste he'll never fully appreciate, but he finds out later that he's been a really good friend to Jared while Jensen was off being clueless, and he already was one before Jensen put his head up his own ass. 

They learn to respect each other eventually.

*

'I get off in half an hour,' Jared says when he calls Jensen at the office at five thirty, he doesn't even bother with greeting him. He never does (which might be the only trait in him Jensen's mother will never approve of).

'Well, what do you know,' Jensen tells him, smiling, 'it would appear I do too.'

'Really?' Jared asks, sounding clueless. 'You got anything planned?'

'Me, not really,' he answers easily, scrolling through the file on his computer to see if it needs more work. 'But I think my boyfriend has. I heard he took another tantric massage class today.'

'You bet. Now shut down that computer and make sure you're home by six.' 

Jensen laughs loudly, even though Jared's already hung up. They've been together for a little over five months now and it turns out that finding a balance between work, a relationship and pleasure isn't nearly as hard as he thought it was. Especially not when Jared is two of those rolled in one. 

Work comes in third place and he's never been happier.


End file.
